Parallel Universe
by Scotland Evander
Summary: Sometimes, you feel like you're existing in a parallel universe. Sometimes, you're actually on another world all together. Other times, you're misplaced in time. (Or when Steve went to Asgard and some other stuff.) *Part of the Various States series* (Loki/Steve)
1. Enter a Higher State

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not claim to own it. **

_A/N: This is going to be a series of one-shots that relate to my series Various States (Deep in the Heart, For What It's Worth, and Land of Confusion). So far, the ones I've got planned take place after Land of Confusion and before the next major installment, which will happen sometime this winter after Thor 2 makes itself known. _

* * *

**_Enter a Higher State_**

* * *

_Deep inside a parallel universe / It's getting harder and harder / To tell what came first_

_-Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Parallel Universe" _

* * *

"Do you always feel out of place here?"

Loki stared blankly ahead for a long time, allowing Steve to study the demigod's profile. Loki was all sharp angles and pale skin, made even more wan by the fact he was wearing dark colors in an all white room. The box seemed to glow white in the dark room it was located within, which was decorated in rich, dark woods and accented with crimson and gold.

Asgard had way too much gold. At least this room wasn't glowing as many of the other rooms Steve had been shown were. The soft golden glow gave Steve a headache.

Loki finally nodded, still staring at the wall opposite him and not giving Steve even a glance.

"For how long?"

"Since I was small," Loki admitted, knotting his long, pale fingers together in his lap. "Are you feeling out of place, Steven?"

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and shifted in the uncomfortable chair. Everything was uncomfortable on Asgard for Steve: the people, the furniture, the food, the ale, the light, the sky…the last few days had been a never ending Parade the Mortal around. After meeting Thor's beefy, battle happy friends and his almost cold and indifferent father, Steve had a better understanding of why Loki wound up going a bit off his rocker. Loki's was clearly loved, yet he was never accepted for being as he naturally was— something Steve could understand. Before he became Captain America, the only person who accepted Steve was Bucky.

Loki looked up from his lap and Steve finally got to see those beautiful green eyes.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, it's kind of normal for me to feel out of place," Steve said, adding an uncomfortable chuckle on at the end. "I'm usually out of my element."

"And time," Loki offered, cracking a very small smile. He shifted on the bench he was seated upon. "How do you spend your time when you're not wasting it here?"

Steve eyeballed Loki, frowning a little. "I'm not wasting my time."

Loki snorted. "Steven, there is nothing to do here."

Loki gestured around the box he was seated within, illustrating the lack of things to entertain.

"You said you didn't want to be alone," Steve reminded Loki like a broken record. "Not alone. I'm here. And your other stream of visitors."

Loki scoffed, looking away. "How is Jessica faring?"

"I still don't know. Your mother doesn't know when she finds me and no one else even entertains the idea of telling me anything."

"Mother continues to stalk you in the gardens?" Loki asked, turning to Steve wearing a teasing expression. Steve wanted to capture it on paper.

Steve nodded, doing his best to ignore his itching fingers. Since re-locking Loki up for his crimes against Asgard (due to the mind control and the fact he was two very different people when he'd made a bid to rule the Earth, Loki had been pardoned of those crimes), Loki had had his hair trimmed into a shorter style. Steve liked it. He wanted to run his fingers through the now shorter locks. The style was very similar to the one he'd sported as Good Loki on Earth (which at the worst times Steve had the impulse to touch). Besides Loki's hair, Steve wanted to record the Medieval looking outfit Loki was sporting.

Steve had a problem: Asgard lacked paper and pencils.

They had a library full of books, but when Steve had in inquired on where he might find paper and a pencil to draw he got a very blank looks. Thor knew what Steve wanted, but didn't had a clue where those materials would be found. (Thor was less than familiar with the library or anything not having to do with food, drinking, or battle.) Queen Frigga looked concerned for Steve's sanity when he had asked and changed the subject. Steve knew better than to ask Odin for anything.

Odin wasn't thrilled Steve was on Asgard.

"Today your mother wanted to know why I was using a stick to draw a tree," Steve admitted, his cheeks heading up.

Loki smiled softly. "I see."

"I get the feeling I'm not highly regarded here," Steve admitted, raking a hand through his hair. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. "Thor tries to include me in…sparring with his friends, but it's just not my thing. I'd just…"

"Rather punch a bag?"

"Or run. I like running."

Loki gave Steve a look that said it was likely a good idea that Steve hadn't told Thor or his merry band of warriors he liked running. Steve sighed, sitting back and slouching in the uncomfortable chair.

"I'm sorry you are not enjoying your time here," Loki said quietly. "I didn't—"

"Hey, who said I'm not enjoying it?" Steve asked, sitting up straight. "I just…I want some paper."

Loki quirked an eyebrow. Steve opened his mouth to explain, then remembered Loki had spent quite a bit of time among Earthlings, so he'd understand unlike Thor. (And didn't care that Steve wanted to draw like Queen Frigga. Drawing was clearly not a male approved activity.)

Loki gave Steve directions to follow after he left. Steve spent another twenty minutes with Loki before Odin showed up. Not wanting to be glared at by a one-eyed god-king, Steve said his goodbyes and hightailed upstairs to the gold lighted bathed palace. Seeing he had nothing better to do with his afternoon, Steve headed for the library. Once he was in the library, he followed the directions Loki had given him and found himself at an open area of the library where a very pretty woman around thirty sat. She was blonde, blue-eyed and dressed in white instead of gold.

"I see you returned," she said as Steve stood before her.

"I was told you had paper."

"Paper?"

"Parchment? I'd rather not use parchment, though. I want to draw. Paper is made out of wood pulp, but I guess I'd settle for a canvas. Do you have canvas?"

"Ah! You are an artist! It makes sense," the woman said, lighting up. She quickly approached him and grabbed his hand, studying it in her own. Whatever she saw there seemed to excite her further. "Ah, yes, yes, yes. These are artist hands as well as those of a solider. Interesting. Midgard has changed."

A half hour later, Steve left the library with a huge wooden box filled with paper (well, the Asgardian equivalent), canvas, paint, charcoal and inks. And a few other items Steve had no idea what they were, but the woman had insisted he needed if he was going to "take part in art" as she kept saying.

* * *

_I was ready to lose, and ready to fall / But then, something about the way you look at me / Makes it okay_

_-Holly Conlan, "OK" _

* * *

"I got a whole box of art supplies."

"I told you she would supply you with what you required."

"Yeah. She loaded me up with everything Asgard has to offer."

"So, no more drawing in the dirt?"

"No, no more doodling in the dirt," Steve said, sounding a bit absent minded as his graceful hand sketched on the pad the Asgardian equivalent of paper Vör had supplied Steve with. Loki smirked. Steve glanced up and caught the expression of mischief on Loki's face and frowned. "Doodling isn't a bad word, Loki."

Loki leaned forward, enjoying the look of indignation on Steve's face. He licked his lips as he stared at the man on the other side of the glass.

Six months was going to be a lifetime. Loki was second guessing his action of bringing Steve with him to Asgard if he couldn't touch him. He wanted to touch, feel, prod, stroke, and many other things to the man on the other side of the glass. He'd just gotten a mere taste of what the man could offer, gotten only a mere kiss from the man before he'd been locked up in his cage again.

Loki had never really felt this before. Yes, he'd had had relations with others, but they were few and far between as no one really caught his fancy on Asgard before.

From the moment Loki had seen Steve Rogers, something had caught on fire and now it just burned.

"Loki," Steve said, shifting in his seat and blushing.

"Oh, fine," Loki said, leaning back and schooling his features. "Tell me, what have you been doodling?"

"Sketching," Steve corrected, looking back down. "The sights."

He flipped the pages in the book till he came to the beginning. For having the book less than a day, Steve had been doodling quite a bit. Steve turned the book so he could show Loki what he'd drawn.

"This is the view out of the window at night. I've always liked the stars," Steve explained. He flipped the page.

Loki drank in each sketch. There were ones of his mother, Thor and his idiot friends, the palace gardens, and several of other places Loki hadn't seen in what felt like eons.

Of course, there were quite a few sketches of him— some with his long hair, some with his shorter hair, some of him dressed in the clothes he'd worn from Other Earth, some in his Asgardian armor, one in the clothing he wore now, and….

"You drew me as a Jötun," Loki said in distaste, eyeing the blue based sketch. "Why?"

"Why? Because, well, it's part of who you are," Steve said, appearing baffled. He turned the book to see which picture had upset Loki. "I liked your blue skin. You've got these designs on your skin...I drew it from memory, so I might have gotten some of it wrong."

Loki scowled.

"Here. This is what Jess looks like. I got to see her this morning," Steve said, turning to the last page.

Loki leaned forward, studying the page Steve had pressed to the glass. Jess was shaded in a golden orange color, her long, fiery orange hair looking perfect and shiny. She was asleep, lying flat on her back in a white bed in the healing quarters.

"There's no change?" Loki inquired, reaching up and running his finger along the lines that made up Jess's orange hair.

"Your father told Thor he bound her magically finally. He can't seem to get her not to be orange, though. He's rather worried she's channeling an orange."

"Did you explain her hair is often strange colors?"

"Yes. I told him about when she made me help her dye it blue," Steve grumped, turning the book to face him again. He reached into the box Vör had gifted him and pulled out an orange ink pot. He went about mixing it with a few other colors till he had the shade he wanted. "These Asgard inks are awesome. I wish we had them on Earth. They kind of work like a pencil, but they are colored and not like the colored pencils we've got back on Earth."

Loki let a small smile grace his lips.

Steve glanced up and smiled as well.

Loki leaned back, watching as Steve went back to sketching.

* * *

_All of the things I want to say just aren't coming out right / I'm tripping on words / You got my heading spinning / I don't know where to go from here_

_-Lifehouse, "You and Me"_

* * *

"This is seriously a parallel universe, Lo."

Loki fell out of bed in a tangle of blankets.

Jessica Witton was standing in front of his white box, leaning against one of the pillars a few feet from the picture window. She was cast in the shadows, but Loki saw her mouth quirk up in the corner as she studied him in a heap on the ground.

"Last thing I remember, I was shouting 'Don't Rain on My Parade' at Guy Pearce. Then I wake up in Asgard to a face full of Odin," Jess remarked dryly, pushing herself off the pillar and sauntering forwards into the white light that spilled from Loki's box.

Loki gaped at her.

She no longer sported orange hair or the orange skin she'd had when they'd first arrived on Asgard. Jess was not her usual shade of pale, though, but now a golden color that many Asgardians sported only a little more orange than what might be considered natural. Jess's eyes weren't burning orange and had reverted back to the unknown green she shared with Loki. Jess's hair was also a very similar shade to the one that grew out of Loki's head.

"Your hair is dark," Loki stated, getting to his feet.

"That's the first thing you say to me? You leave me behind on New Earth after I'm mind controlled by an Evil version of you, put myself into a coma by crashing one of Tony's overpriced sports cars, had my formally inherit magic activated, and then get doped up on an experimental drug that turns me into a fiery witch of death and the first thing you say is my hair is dark again?"

"I saw you when you…well, you were…"

"A doped up Fire Minion?" Jess bitterly asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Yes," Loki whispered.

Jess huffed, letting her arms drop to her sides. "Whatever, Lo. I forgive you, as you're kind of batty."

"I am not batty."

"Uh huh."

"Are you well?"

"I'm tan, Loki. I am _tan_."

She said this like this was something that had never occurred within her lifetime. She held out her arms in front of her and stared at them as if they belonged to someone else and she wasn't sure how they'd gotten attached to her torso.

"You are tan?"

"Yeah, look at this skin? It's not normal for me!" She pulled at the skin on her arm. "Seriously, I've dreamed of the day I'd be this tan, though I'm kind of a little orange. Sunless tanner clearly used, though I didn't. Odin said he couldn't get my skin to drop the orange tint, as he couldn't totally neutralize Extremis. He fixed it so it works right with an apple."

"Idunn's Apples? You were given one?"

"Yeah," Jess said, straightening. She pinned Loki with a look he couldn't name. "I'm half mortal, so all it really did was extend my already long life and heal my current issue, which was the fact Extremis failed at life and turned me into a fiery ball of death."

"So, just a longer life?" Loki inquired, half pleased and half mad someone else had told Jess who her mother was. "No other side effects?"

"Not from the apple," Jess said. "The apple got rid of the bad side effects of Extremis. I will not be blowing up any time soon."

"Yes, because you blowing up would be a bad thing," Loki dryly attempted to joke.

"It would. Then I'd be tiny bits of Jess and you'd be out of a friend. And Clint would put an arrow through your eye. And if he failed, it'd be an exploding one and you'd go wheeeeeeeeee!"

Jess waved her hands around on either side of her head like she was going down a slide. Loki shook his head.

"Jessica?"

"Loki?"

"Are you really well?"

"As well as I can be, Lo. As well as I can be," Jess assured.

* * *

_'Cause, oh that gave me such a fright / But I will hold as long as you like / Just promise me we'll be all right_

_-Mumford & Sons, "Ghosts That We Knew"_

* * *

"Are you mad at Loki?"

"No."

"Are you unhappy with him?"

"At the moment? Nope."

"Do you want to punch him in the nose?"

Jess cocked her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow in a familiar gesture. "No. I like his nose. I think you do too."

"How can you not be angry at him?" Steve asked, ignoring her last comment. "He left you on Earth alone with out-of-control magic."

"I felt like Thor's hammer when he left. Mjolnir isn't whacky and about to go BOOM."

"We thought you'd be mad when you woke up."

"Is that why you're here?"

Steve looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me Lo only brought you along to make me happy. If he really wanted to make me happy, he'd brought Clint. He brought you be because he l-i-i-i-i-i-ikes you," Jess finished in a sing song voice, shoving Steve.

Steve groaned, cheeks heating up. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked back at Jess, who was grinning wildly.

"Awwww, you're so adorable!" Jess screeched, reaching up to pinch Steve's cheeks.

He tried to bat her off, but failed.

_Does anybody ever feel like / You're always one step behind / Now I'm sitting alone here in my bed / I'm waiting for an answer I don't know I'll get_

_-Safetysuit, "These Times" _

"Did you have a plan?"

"When?"

"When you let Killian take you hostage."

"Oh. Uh, no. Not really. Other than to use my awesome skills at annoyance to annoy him," Jess admitted. "It failed miserably. Unlike Tony, Killian likes show tunes. Or liked."

Jess's face went dark and she cast her eyes off to the side. Steve put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she clung onto the deck of playing cards in her hands. Her grip was stronger than usual, thanks to the apple and Extremis and the cards bent awkwardly. Loki wanted to comfort her as well, but there was a rather thick sheet of glass between himself and her. Loki's silver tongue failed him, as he was unsure how to weave words to bring her comfort.

"Anyways, I just rolled with the punches the best I could till I lost control and, well, uh…I'll need some therapy once I'm back on Earth," Jess announced, meeting Loki's eyes. There was a hard glint in her eye— almost daring him to contradict her.

"Hit me," Loki said, glancing down at the cards on the table Jess has pushed up against the glass so Loki could play this odd game with her and Steve.

Jess slapped a card down on the table next to the other cards.

"Well?"

"I do not understand the significance of twenty-one. It's almost impossible to get. Steven, flip that one over," Loki ordered. He cursed when he saw what it was.

Jess giggled. Steve looked as if he was trying hard not to chuckle at Loki's misfortune to loose seven straight games of Blackjack.

"Do you not know a better game?" Loki demanded, looking at Steve.

"Sorry. No. I never really played grown up card games. Just ones we made up as kids," Steve admitted, before glancing at his sketch book.

The three went silent, except for the noise of Jess shuffling the stack of playing cards. It was the last evening Jess and Steve were to be in Asgard. Tomorrow morning, they were to travel with Thor back to Midgard on the newly repaired Biforst.

Loki did not want either to leave, but refused to admit it out loud. He was sure they were both aware of his feelings. He settled back on the bench he was seated on in his white box and stared at the two people who had come to mean so much to him.

* * *

_Hello, how are you? / Missed you so; it's nice to see ya / All we have at the end of the game / Is a lonely road out_

_-The Early November, "Hair" _

* * *

Steve disliked the Biforst. It was not a smooth trip, but a rough one— a thousand times worse than how Steve had gotten to Asgard.

Upon landing in the desert, Steve stumbled forward a few steps till he crashed to his knees and tried his hardest to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged.

"Okay. That method of travels sucks," Jess proclaimed from somewhere off to Steve's left.

"This method of travel is the best," Thor assured. "Are you well, Captain America?"

"Not sure," Steve admitted, feeling dizzy as he struggled to his feet. He only managed to get to his feet with Thor's help.

"If Jane Foster hits me with her truck, I'm going to go Kill Bill on her," Jess grumbled.

Steve finally opened his eyes. Jess was spread eagle in the sand, staring up at the sky about five feet away.

"Lady Jane did not mean to hit me with her truck," Thor insisted, turning his attention from Steve to Jess. "Nor do I see her in the near vicinity."

"No. I think she moved on, L'Oreal," Jess grumbled as Thor lifted her to her feet, sand flying everywhere. "You ought to go see her. Since you haven't the last two times you were here. I know, you were busy, but seriously, you shouldn't leave a girl hanging."

Thor frowned as Jess shook sand out of her dark hair. Sand rained down out of the locks like waterfalls. Both Thor and Steve watched till Jess turned around and said with mock excitement in her tone, "Oh, look. A black car. I guess SHIELD is here! Goody!"

A black car came to a stop about ten feet from where they were standing within some sort of Nordic design. Steve studied it, fingers twitching to sketch it. Hopefully he'd remember it in enough detail to have either Thor or Loki explain what all the designs meant.

"Ah, good to see you back, Captain America."

Steve looked up from the ground to find Agent Coulson standing outside the car.

"Agent Coulson," Steve greeted, moving forward to shake Coulson's hand.

"And I see Miss Witton…got a tan," Coulson finished.

"Got a tan, changed up the hair color again and finally took up Taidō." Jess moved her arms in a series of movements Steve had seen her do a few times since Odin had brought her out of her magically induced coma. She smiled mischievously at Coulson. "I'm totally ready to take the world by storm."

Coulson stared at her, raising his eyebrows.

"After I get some serious therapy."

"Ah, yes!" Thor agreed, lighting up. "I've tried to convince Father Loki would benefit from this therapy, but he is not of agreement."

"Of course not. Crazy people like me think it's glorious. Now get me into some a/c. Stat!"

Jess closed the space between herself and the black car. Coulson opened the back door and Jess vanished into the car. Thor greeted Agent Clouson and asked if he knew the whereabouts of Lady Jane. Steve looked up at the sky, gazing around. Somewhere up there was Asgard.

Somewhere out there was Loki.

"I miss you already," Steve whispered into the sky, sure Loki would get the memo from the tall, dark man with golden eyes who stood guard over the Bifrost, seeing and hearing all.

* * *

_It's really bursting at the seams / For absorbing everything / The spectrum's a to z / This is fact not fiction for the first time in years_

_-Death Cab for Cutie, "Lack of Color"_

* * *

"They have arrived safely."

Loki bowed his head in answer to Odin's statement.

"Why did you bring the mortal here, Loki?"

"He wished to come."

"The tin man wanted to come."

"Ah, but I'm not as fond of the tin man as I am of Steven."

Odin shifted imperceptibly. "You are fond of the mortal."

"Steven."

"Steven. You are fond of Steven."

"Correct."

"You are not fond of many, Loki. Forgive me for finding it hard to believe you are fond of a mortal."

"I am fond of Jessica."

"You are fond of Jessica in a different manner and she's not a mortal."

Loki eyed Odin for a moment before asking, "Have I ever brought a mortal in the flesh here before?"

"No."

"Have I ever brought anyone with me?"

"No, son, you have not."

"Actions speak louder than words, Father."

* * *

_Psychic changes are born in your heart / Entertain a nervous breakthrough that makes us the same / Bless your heart girl_

_-Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Parallel Universe" _


	2. There's No Place Like Home

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. **

* * *

**_There's No Place Like Home_**

* * *

_Shine like the bright lights over New York City / Oklahoma's sunset has color, but so does autumn in Central Park_

_-Common Rotation, "Oklahoma" _

* * *

Clint tried the knob. Unsurprisingly, it turned and the door opened. Clint rolled his eyes upward as he entered the apartment and called out, "STEVEN ROGERS! What did I tell you about locking your door?"

Clint stood in the doorway to the small apartment and looked around the living room, waiting for Steve to materialize. It was clear the man was home, as when he left the the place Steve made sure everything was in order and put away. (He also tended to lock the door.) The table was covered in odd paper, there were several canvases half done leaning against the wall near the dining table, and Clint was pretty sure there was blue paint on the window.

"I know, I know, I know," Steve said, popping out of the kitchen drying his hands. The towel he was using looked like a rainbow had thrown up on it. Clint raised his eyebrows and took in Steve's appearance. Steve glanced down at himself and cringed. "Sorry. I'll change."

"I don't care you're covered in paint," Clint scoffed, flopping his free hand and slamming the door behind him. He pointedly locked it behind him. "Since returning from the Land of the Gods, Witton is freaky when it comes to food. I don't know what they did to her, but I saw her eating a tomato this morning for breakfast. A tomato! Last I heard, she hated tomatoes."

Steve hummed in a similar manner Loki tended to when he wasn't fully paying attention to what was being said due to the fact his mind was elsewhere. Clint looked at Steve to find him staring fixedly at the blue paint on the window.

Clint grinned, placing the bag of greasy burgers and fries on the only clear spot on the dining table. "So, how is Lokes?"

Steve snapped his attention to Clint. "They locked him back in the box."

Clint made a face of commiseration, opening the bag of burgers and sniffing deeply to enjoy the wonderful sent of burgers, fries and grease. He unloaded the bag and eyeballed the canvas Steve had set up on the easel near the window. Clint blinked several times and abandoned the food.

No wonder Steve put paint on the window. Clint wanted to find the paint and slap some other colors on the window just to see what it'd do in the sunlight.

"Steve, what is this stuff?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you do to the paint to make it…do this?"

The colors were vibrate. They danced in the light, glittering in a surreal way. Clint might not know a lot about art, but he whatever he was seeing was otherworldly. The paint splashed across the canvas sparkled. The same went for the blue paint Steve had splashed on the window, only it was amplified by the direct sunlight filtering through it. Clint approached the window and cocked his head to the side, swearing he could see tiny crystals dancing through the air.

It was bizarre and utterly breathtaking.

"I used some of the paints I got on Asgard. I thought the inks were amazing," Steve said, appearing next to Clint and picking up an old fashion, leather bound book off the cover was imprinted with something that looked Norse-like. "This is the sketchbook I kept after Loki told me where I could get some art supplies."

Steve made a strange face, but handed the book to Clint and picked up the burger Clint had brought from a greasy spoon type of joint that he favored.

Clint flipped through the sketch book and let his mouth hang open.

"Amazing, huh? And guess what?"

"What?" Clint asked, glancing up at Steve from the drawing of Jess and Loki playing cards while Loki was behind a sheet of glass.

"Guys don't do art on Asgard," Steve said, wearing a peculiar expression. "You should have seen the dirty looks Odin gave me after I got that box. They were nothing like the looks he was giving me before."

Steve snorted, unwrapping the burger.

"Yeah, I guess I can see that. Not very war like, drawing."

Steve made a dervish noise, but didn't respond with words as he was a little busy snarfing his burger down. Clint continued to flip through the sketch book, noting the Loki drawings far outnumbered anything else.

"So, uh, besides discovering the joys of art supplies, what else did you do on Asgard?"

Clint waggled his eyebrows at Steve, who blankly stared at Clint for a long beat before turning beet red.

"Nothing!"

"You did nothing? Just sat around wallowing about your lack of paper and pens till Loki got you some?" Clint asked, flipping a chair around and sitting down.

"No. Thor showed me around. I met his friends, I saw things," Steve stiffly said, sitting up straighter. He grabbed a napkin and dabbed his mouth rather dainty. Clint raised an eyebrow. Steve caught himself and sighed. "I've been eating with royalty."

"And not Thor?"

Clint had seen Thor eat and he stuffed his mouth like it was going out of style.

"No, I didn't take meals with Thor," Steve said, glancing down at the table before grabbing a paint brush from somewhere and twirling it in his fingers. "I usually ate with Loki if I could, or Jess and Queen Frigga."

Clint nodded, grabbing his burger and unwrapping it.

"Why'd Loki take you and not Tony? Or me?" Clint asked, grabbing a fry out of the bag. He paused to chew before adding, "Tony really wanted to go. He's pissed you got to go and he didn't."

"Loki…Jess would have been…I….Loki…I…Loki…."

Clint smirked. "You and Loki, huh?"

Steve flushed bright red. Clint grinned and took a rather large bite of hamburger to allow Steve figure out what he wanted to say.

"We're…uh…we…Loki….I'm…."

"So, you and Loki got together? Hooked up? Made eyes at one another?"

"Made eyes at one another?" Steve echoed faintly, looking as if he thought Clint was speaking Greek.

Clint shook his head. "So, how's it being with Loki then? Everything you thought it'd be?"

"It's fine," Steve said, his voice a little high. He adjusted his shirt and ran his hand through his hair a few times. "Fine. Fine. Fine."

"Well, if you say it four times, it must be awesome."

If possible, Steve went redder.

* * *

_You can lie to yourself and all your friends / And pretend that you don't care / But circumstance gets in the way_

_-Lucky Boy's Confusion, "Fred Astaire"_

* * *

Tony was not often jealous. He had everything anyone could possibly want: money, fame, and a hot girlfriend. He was a genius, had toys, and influence over important things. Tony was Iron Man, a bonafide super hero. There was nothing for him to jealous about…except maybe one thing.

He'd been left behind during the trip to Asgard.

Tony had not been allowed on Asgard.

And likely wouldn't, if what Jess was saying was true.

"What do you mean mortals aren't allowed?" Tony wailed. "How'd you and Steve get to go?"

"I am not a mortal, I've come to learn. I'm half Smurf!" Jess exclaimed, smiling brightly. "I just…well, don't get the cool Smurf skin."

"Huh?"

"Turns out my mother is actually the Queen of Hell and daughter of a different Loki from another dimension where Loki got it on with some Frost Giant and they had three kids," Jess explained.

"Just like our Norse myths," Tony faintly said, his head trying hard to wrap around what Jess was saying. "Wait, there's yet another dimension?"

"Of course! There's like an infinite number of parallel universes! Haven't you ever seen that _Stargate SG-1_ episode with the mirror?"

"No, I can't say I did."

"Dude, you'd think Rhodey would have made you watch, as it's about the Air Force. That's why I had to watch it. Johnny, my half-Smurf brother— dude, he never even knew he was part frozen Smurf! What was I saying? Oh, yeah, Johnny was into it because it was about the Air Force and everyone got to fly a fighter jet."

Tony folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the bar. He pinned Jess with a look and asked, "And Steve? Are you going to tell me Steve's part— he can't be also part Frosty Smurf. He was born here and is totally human. Though, if he happened to be part Frosty that'd explain why he was able to touch Loki when he was all Smurfed out."

Jess looked surprised and leaned forward. "He what?"

"Steve carried Loki in from the plane when you'd left him all blue after you stole his magic," Tony said without thinking. "And he was the only one who could touch Loki until he went pink again without getting frost bitten."

Jess stared at Tony unblinkingly. Tony pushed himself off the bar and pointed a finger at her.

"Steve is part Frost Giant, isn't he? Oh! Wasn't Loki like a mini-Frost Giant? That might explain why Steve was so small till he got—"

"No," Jess interrupted. "I can't touch Loki when he's blue. The one time I saw him with his blue skin, I knew he was below freezing when my hand was inches away from his skin. I could feel the cold and bite…if I'd touched him…"

Jess looked away, staring out the window. It was brilliant sunny, yet bleak as it was February in New York. Tony shifted on his feet, leaning against the bar again.

"Maybe it had something to do with his serum," Jess said thoughtfully.

Tony tapped his chin and started pacing the length of the living room, thought rolling over in his head. He'd gone over everything his father had left behind on the Super Soilder project, but hadn't discovered anything that stated they'd used alien DNA or anything not found on Earth. Then again, the Tesseract was found on Earth, yet not of Earth.

"Steve did live in an ice cave for seventy years," Jess reminded Tony. "And he wasn't frost bitten when he came out. Maybe the serum makes him…unable to be frost bitten or something?"

Tony stopped pacing and felt twitchy. He wanted to go to his lab and do something while he pondered the Steve Conundrum.

"If you crashed your plane somewhere in Greenland and got eaten by a glacier, would you have lived?" Jess asked, scratching the side of her face and not looking at Tony.

"He's got the serum thing going for him, remember? That kept him alive."

Not that Tony _liked_ that answer. That was not what the serum was designed for. It was just supposed to enhance human abilities, not enable one to cheat death.

"Yeah, exactly," Jess said, twisting her almost black hair around her fingers. "Think about it, Tony…even if it kept him alive, it shouldn't have put him in stasis, like science fiction stasis. I'm pretty sure he ought to have aged while he was sleeping away. He didn't age at all, Tony. Even if his heart rate and aging had been slowed by the serum to keep him alive, it shouldn't have stopped him aging. He didn't stop breathing and his heart was still pumping while he was down there. He wasn't frozen in a moment of time or anything, he was still alive in the ice, just asleep. Literally. He fell asleep."

Tony gawked at her, realizing she'd hit on the head the point of the Steve Conundrum that had irked Tony the most since the man had been found alive in the ice.

"What are you trying to tell me, Witton?"

Jess swallowed looking away. "That maybe, like me, Steve's not…well, mabye he's got an interesting set of parents as well."

"Can I run more tests on you? They ran tests of Steve up the wazoo before they jacked him up on super syrup, but—"

"Tony, you're an engineer not a biologist," Jess replied, eyeing Tony with a strange look on her face.

Jess had been kind of…different since she'd returned from Asgard. She wasn't as strange, wasn't as over the top with the singing out of tune, and she wasn't…well, it could be because she wasn't slowly going crazy any longer. Internally, Tony had to admit the person he'd gotten to know before the events of Christmas season from hell wasn't who Jessica Witton really was.

He wasn't sure if the person in front of him was even Jessica. The only person who'd known Jessica before Evil Loki mind controlled her was currently sitting in a white box on Asgard twiddling his thumbs.

So, Tony did what he did best when things failed to go his way: he pouted. (He would never admit he pouted, as it wasn't very manly, but if he was going to be honest with himself as his therapist was insisting, he pouted.)

"I didn't get to go to the alien planet and now I can't discover how one lives a long life?"

"You're genes aren't right," Jess said, turning her back to him and staring out the windows over the skyline of New York.

"What about Steve?"

"That was a terrible movie," Jess said, her back till to him.

"Uh, I think the movie was _What About Bob?_" Tony corrected.

Jess turned to face him and said, "Oh, duh. It was _All About Steve_. That was the horrible one."

Before Tony could get back on topic, Jess changed the topic to the rebuild of his Malibu home. Seeing a something familiar about her stance and facial expression, Tony latched onto the topic and began to rant and rave about the fact it was the third time he had to rebuild the place in the past two years.

* * *

_As the figures fade into the distance / You're at home now, no need for resistance / Like marble exterior so cold / But like magic your soul puts things on hold_

_-JJ72, "Sinking" _

* * *

"So, what really went down between with Steve and Loki?" Clint asked Witton about a week after she and Steve had returned to Earth from Asgard. "Every time I ask Steve, he turns red, says 'fine' four times and clams up."

Witton snorted into the mug of hot chocolate she held between her hands as the pair took in the city lights on the balcony of Stark Tower. It was a little colder than Clint cared for, but he had about seventeen layers of high tech clothing on to keep him warm. Since returning from Asgard, Witton seemed to crave colder temps. Besides Steve, Clint was the only one who indulged her need to freeze her butt off.

"Oh, you know," Witton began, smiling softly, "they both had crazy crushes on one another and had no clue what to do."

Clint nodded. "Yeah. Anyone could see Steve was smitten."

Witton smiled larger. "Smitten. Yeah, that's the right word. Steve was very smitten with Lo. Clearly something happened while I was going whacko, but neither has really shared what exactly lead to Steve being on Asgard and them making eyes at one another. I would ask, but I'd get a similar reaction you're getting out of Steve and Loki tended to…well, when I would ask, he would never give me a straight answer. But, something went down when I was out. They seriously make googly eyes at one another."

Clint spit out the sip of coco he'd just taken. "Googly eyes?"

"Yeah. When they don't think either one is watching the other, they make goggly eyes at one another. It's so cute it's sickening."

Clint snorted. "I'm sure. I thought you girls liked that stuff?"

"Oh, we do. When it's happening to us, but when it's someone else…not so much. Mostly found myself being jealous of their fresh, blossoming love affair."

"Really?"

"Okay, not really. It sucks for them, as I guess shortly after they…uh, got together, Loki got locked back up. No touching. I could tell that was frustrating Loki, but Steve…well, he's Steve. I doubt he's capable of having dirty thoughts."

Clint snickered. "I know. Poor guy."

"Which one?"

"Loki."

Witton laughed. "Yeah. Well, it's only a few more months. Loki has six months left…so, he'll be back in the summer."

"Yeah. You cold?"

"No. Nice and toasty in my jacket."

Witton was only wearing a fleece jacket, granted one issued to the Agents of SHIELD, so it was the best of the best, but still. Clint had one, plus about a hundred other layers to deal with the bitting cold.

"Just because I'm Texan doesn't mean I can't do cold," she muttered. "And remember I run hotter now than I used to. I'm like the opposite of Loki now. He runs cold, I run hot…and yet we both do better in colder temps. Odd."

"Yeah, I think you've got less heat tolerance than Lokes these days," Clint snickered, remembering what Coulson had told him about Jess's reaction to the heat of New Mexico in January.

"I like cold now. Cold is cool."

* * *

_I don't want you to give it all up / And leave your own life collecting dust_

_-Hoobastank, "Running Away"_

* * *

"PEPPER!"

"What, Tony?"

"Where is Jess?"

"I don't know," Pepper said, sounding tired. "Have you tried upstairs? She is usually on her own floor these days."

"I looked there. Bruce hasn't seen her all day either. Steve and Clint haven't heard from her either. It's been three hours."

"I don't honestly care where she is."

Tony gasped. "What? How can you be so cold, Pep?"

"I'm not being cold. Jess is her own woman. She can leave the tower and do her own thing without informing you, Tony. I've got other things to worry about right now," Pepper said, sounding distracted.

"Fine. Bye."

He hung the phone up and spun around in his chair. "JARVIS, are you sure Jess's not here?"

"Yes, sir, I am quite sure Ms Witton is not in the tower."

"And you have no idea when she left?"

"She left three hours ago," JARVIS replied.

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No, sir. She left her phone behind, so I am unable to trace her."

Tony grabbed his hair and tugged, knowing something wasn't right. Part of Tony knew he was over reacting. Jess had only been gone for three hours. She was likely shopping or something. And yet, something was making Tony worry.

He hated when he worried.

Tony went back to her floor and poked around till he realized something: that purple purse she'd brought with her from Other Earth wasn't in her closet. After doing a through search of her living quarters, Tony realized everything she'd brought with her from Other Earth was MIA.

"JARVIS, call Clint and Steve. Now."

* * *

_This is not goodbye she said / It is just time for me to rest my head / She does not walk, she runs instead_

_-Maroon 5, "Must Get Out" _

* * *

Clint was the one to find her. It took him a few minutes to realize she wouldn't run back to Texas, where Tony and Steve were both convinced she'd head. Clint let the pair fly off to search the massive state of Texas while he hopped a flight to Anchorage, Alaska.

Once he landed in Anchorage, he rented a car and began driving. Witton wasn't familiar with Anchorage, as she'd never set foot in the state of Alaska as far as Clint was aware, and yet he knew the draw the state would have for her.

She liked the cold now. Even if Texas was familiar to her, she'd be uncomfortable there now.

Within a few hours, Clint found Witton at Earthquake Park. She hadn't ventured all that far from the airport. He parked his car in the empty parking lot. Jess didn't turn around as Clint got out of the car and walked towards her. The day was blindingly sunny, but it there was a cold breeze in the air reminding him that it was still February and he was in Alaska, land of cold, snow, and dark, never ending winter nights. He huddled into his coat as he came to rest next to Witton, who was standing near the edge of a cliff staring at downtown Anchorage. Clint was somewhat surprised to see there were tall buildings making up the skyline of the city.

"I heard once that February was the best month to visit," Witton said over the noise of the wind and landing planes.

"You do know you're making two well known super heros kind of crazy right now?" Clint asked, standing a little closer than socially acceptable. It was cold and Witton radiated heat. Witton didn't seem to mind, as she stepped even closer to him. Clint wrapped his arms around her. She had been standing here for quite awhile, as she smelled cold. It clung to her dark, wild hair.

"My therapist said I needed to get away from the super heros. I'm not a superhero, Clint," Jess said, resting her head on his chest. Her voice blew back to his ears on the wind. "While I might live for a long time, heal faster than normal, I've got no skills. I'm not a super genius, I'm not a mad scientist, I'm not a demigod, I can't shoot anything, and I'm not a trained killer. I'm Jessica Witton: half Frost Giant, half mortal."

Clint tighten his grip on her.

"So, you're moving to Alaska?"

"SHEILD's got a base here in Anchorage. Fury was more than happy to shuffle me off up here and set me up. I've got a rather nice townhouse on the east side of town, I've already enrolled in beauty school so I can learn to cut hair to go along with my mad makeup skills."

Clint nodded, resting his chin on the top of her head, not at all surprised to find Fury had set her up and organized her a new life.

"I'm starting over, Clint. Fresh, clean slate. I gotta do this. For me," Witton said quietly, turning his arms. She looked up at him with pleading eyes. "I can't…I can't do the super hero thing. Give me a little power and I started channeling Bag of Cats Loki."

Clint felt sad, but nodded his agreement.

"I don't want Tony to know where I am, but I'll give you my new number. Give it to Steve so he can stop freaking out."

"So, we can come see you?"

"Yeah. And after I get…better, I'll let the others know where I am. I knew you'd find me," Jess admitted, stepping out of Clint's arms.

"Why?" Clint said, not letting her get far.

"Because you knew I liked the cold now," Witton said, stuffing hands into her coat pockets. She gave him a rather dazzling smile. Clint studied her, feeling something in his stomach sink. He tighten his grip on her upper arms.

"Okay, Witton. I'll keep you a secret from Tony. He's…really worried."

"I know. I know. I feel horrible, but…with his personality…I can't handle him at the moment. I've got another five months till Loki returns and I want to be…well, better. I have a lot of…issues to deal with. While I don't remember what happened after Killian shot me, I know…I know I did terrible things."

She looked away, her eyes wet. Clint stared at the ground waiting for her to get a grip, but offered comfort through the solid grip on her upper arms he still had.

"I gotta do this, Clint. I'm not a super hero. I'm just a girl from Texas who got messed up with Loki Laufey-Odinson and wound up with a bunch of comic book characters," she said quietly.

Clint looked up and took in the familiar fierce expression on her face. Upon seeing it, he knew she would be fine.

* * *

_You know it's kind of funny / Texas always seemed so big / But you know you're in the largest state in the union / When you're anchored down in Anchorage_

_-Michelle Shocked, "Anchorage"_

* * *

"Jessica has moved out of Stark Tower and is now residing in a small dwelling in Anchorage, Alaska."

"She left Stark Tower?"

"Yes."

"And moved to Alaska?"

"Correct."

"Why would she do that?"

"That, son, I do not know. Ought we worry?"

"I am not sure, Father. Did they not try to stop her?"

"I am told Agent Barton was the only person to speak to her after she made her move. He refused to speak to anyone other than your Steven on the matter. They both have ways to contact her and that eased your mortal's worries."

"How is Steven?"

"He is resigned to her choice. I feel he understands her choice to leave. The tin man is angry."

"Of course he is."

"You do not seem upset."

"I am not sure how to feel."

"You ought to feel proud. She made a choice and I believe it was the right one for her situation," Odin admitted. "Jessica needed a home, so she found one."

Loki studied his father, the lines in his face, the steely expression in his lone seeing eye.

"It is cold in Alaska. From what I am able to discern, it's a temperate version of Jotunheimen," Odin said.

Loki felt his father's eye upon him, waiting for him to explode, his mouth to twitch or for some other show of disgust as his true being. Instead Loki glanced up, met Odin's eye and said, "Yes. That makes sense. She went home."

* * *

_It can lead a horse to water, in the wake of the dawn / Catch a train from the desk in the office, give you more time to think / Ride it out to the Bible Belt, but hey man, will you drink?_

_-Common Rotation, "Oklahoma" _


	3. Life Changing

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

**_Life Changing_**

* * *

_Waiting for a knock coming way too late / It seems an age since I've seen you / Countdown as the weeks trickle into days _

_-Powderfinger, "My Happiness"_

* * *

Someone was knocking on the door.

Why was someone knocking on the door? No one knocked because everyone knew Steve failed to lock his door ninety-five percent of the time. Had Steve actually remembered to lock his door?

One look at the lock showed that Steve had stayed true to his horrible habit and the door was opened.

Obviously, it wasn't anyone who actually knew Steve on the other side. Also, the only person who regularly visited Steve at home was Clint and he never knocked. Clint simply burst into the apartment uninvited and yelled at Steve for not locking the door.

Wondering who was knocking on his door on a Saturday night, Steve peered through the peep hole and almost fell backwards at the sight of Loki standing on the other side.

Loki.

Loki was knocking on his door.

Steve ripped the door open.

* * *

_I've walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin / And my clothes are worn and gritty / And I know ugliness / Now show me something pretty_

_-Patrick Park, "Something Pretty" _

* * *

Loki was staring at the ugliest door. How could Steve live in this…place? It was dirty, small, a little crumbly, and smelled odd— a greasy, gritty kind of smell that made Loki's nose itch.

Loki was beginning to doubt if Steve lived here. Clint could have given him the incorrect address. Loki was about to storm off in a huff and ring Clint's neck when the door flew open and revealed Steve Rogers, dressed in a fitted grey t-shirt and jeans. Loki slowly dragged his eyes upward to find Steve's hair was in disarray, which only emphasized the smears of charcoal on his right cheek, left side of his nose, and near his left eye.

The smile that spread across Loki's face was one that was simply out of his control.

"Steven."

"Loki?" Steve asked, looking confused and a little shocked. "I thought you wouldn't be back till…well, June or July."

"Thor convinced Father my rehabilitation would be greatly aided if I had access to this psychology therapy he's discovered offered on Midgard," Loki stiffly reported, managing to control the eye twitch when he uttered the word _father_. "Is this your dwelling?"

Loki peered over Steve's shoulder and into the main living area. The inside of Steve's apartment was much nicer than the hallway Loki was currently standing within, yet not at all spacious. Loki thought that dwelling Jess had maintained on Other Earth had been small. Hers was a mansion compared to Steve's apartment.

"I live here, yes," Steve admitted, raking a hand through his hair and leaving a dark streak where his fingers touched the blond hairs.

Loki smirked. "I do like your new sense of style."

Steve stared down at himself, bemused. "Huh?"

"All the smudges and streaks of grey suit you."

Steve stared wide eyed at Loki before staring at his hands with a rather dumb look on his face.

"Might I come in?"

"Oh! Sorry! Yes, please, come in. I'm sorry. Come in," Steve stammered, stepping aside for Loki to enter.

Loki stepped over the threshold.

* * *

_And the world was back to front / There was sunshine in the evening / And the moon came out for lunch _

_-Eliza Doolittle, "Back To Front"_

* * *

Steve had no idea what to do.

Loki was here.

Here. In Brooklyn. On Earth.

Loki was in his apartment dressed in dark jeans, a deep forest green button down, and a leather jacket looking as if he'd breezed in from a fashion shoot, down to the fact he was holding a rather large Henri Bendel shopping bag.

And Steve was covered in charcoal. It seemed to have gotten everywhere from the moment he stood up from the couch to when he opened the door. It was on his face, arms, hair, shirt, pants, and likely in places Steve hadn't figured out yet.

Smirking, Loki brushed passed Steve and into the living room. With a fluttering heart, Steve pushed the door shut and flipped the lock. It thunked into place and made his already beating out of control heart flop over and thunk out a rhythm. Steve was sure it meant he might be dying.

He had to be dead. He was seeing Loki. In his apartment. On a Saturday night in early March.

Steve managed to turn around and watched Loki brushed his finger tips along the back of Steve's second hand couch.

"Why have you chosen to reside here as oppose within Stark's tower? Not that I blame you for not wanting to be at Stark's beck and call," Loki drawled, rounding the couch, his long, pale fingers trailing over the worn material.

"I wanted my own space," Steve honestly replied, holding his charcoal stained hands awkwardly in front of him. "I wanted to be somewhere that felt…well, familiar."

Loki quirked an eyebrow, pausing in his perusal of Steve's living room. "Is it familiar?"

"Somewhat. More so than Manhattan. And a lot more than Stark's tower."

Loki extended his head in agreement.

"May I?" Loki politely inquired, waving his hand at the mess on the coffee table. Steve rubbed the back of his neck before he remembered his fingers were covered in charcoal. He let out a noise of annoyance.

"Be careful or you'll end up looking like me," Steve tried to joke, motioning to the fact he was streaked in shades of grey.

"I would be so lucky," Loki drawled, giving Steve a half smile that made his stomach flip over.

* * *

_You've got this look I can't describe / You make me feel like I'm alive / When everything else is au fait_

_-Corinne Bailey Rae, "Like a Star"_

* * *

Steve turned a lovely shade of red, only accenting the smudges of charcoal all over his face. Steve made a strange noise and vanished through a door. The sound of running water filled the quiet apartment and Loki turned his attention back to the drawings that littered the table in the center of the living area. Steve was clearly working on these when Loki had dropped by unannounced. Loki took in each image, noting a few looked complete while many looked half done.

"It's a series," Steve said, appearing at Loki's shoulder. Loki glanced up to find Steve had washed his face and arms free of charcoal. He'd also put on fresh clothing and combed his hair. Loki felt a stab of dismay at the sight of spick-n-span Steve. He rather liked the dirty version. Steve met Loki's gaze, immediately went pink, and said in a rush, "People in my neighborhood."

Loki turned his attention to the sketches littering the table. "In everyday life?"

"Yeah. I…I don't…I wanted to, uh, well, uh…I…well, uh…ran out…yeah," Steve stumbled, looking bashful and rubbing the back of his neck.

Loki quirked an eyebrow and set the shopping bag in his hand on the couch. "I have something for you."

Steve lit up like the sunrise at the sight of the carved, wooden box Loki produced from the oversized shopping bag Stark had supplied him with. Loki extended it towards Steve saying, "Vör was quite animate I replenish your supplies, as she was sure you'd run out by now seeing it's been three months."

Steve beamed, taking the box from Loki and gushing his thanks. Loki felt himself warm and his stomach coil in pleasure.

"I'll just, uh, put this over here," Steve said, going over to a circular table surrounded by mismatched chairs. He set the box down on the table before looking between the new box and the old one.

"Why does none of the furniture match?" Loki inquired, taking in the rest of the objects in the apartment.

"Huh? Oh. I picked everything up at flea markets or second hand shops," Steve said, deciding he'd combine the contents of the two boxes. "I never really had that whole…matching things growing up and…"

"You feel more comfortable," Loki finished, watching Steve take the now empty box into the living area and stick it under the table containing the television. "It's quite understandable."

There was something…homey about the mismatched objects littering the apartment. The more Loki was inside the apartment, the more it screamed STEVE loudly.

Steve nodded, brushing his hands along his thighs as he stood up. He turned towards Loki and blushed upon finding Loki staring. Loki could not help it. It'd been three months since he'd last seen Steve, a live time since their lone kiss before Loki was locked within his prison.

"There's no need to be nervous, Steven," Loki purred, moving around the coffee table.

Steve let out a rather high pitched laugh as his cheeks pinked further. "Uh, huh."

"Why are you nervous?"

Steve looked at Loki with wide eyes and swallowed. He looked away, running a hand through his hair, messing up the style he'd brushed it into earlier. Loki smiled a small, fond smile as he stopped a few feet from Steve.

"Do you need a glass partition between us again?" Loki inquired.

"No!" Steve shouted, head snapping up. His blue, blue eyes bore into Loki, showing his indignation at the suggestion.

Loki cocked his head to the side. "Then, what is it?"

Steve looked away, biting down on the inside of his cheek and rubbing the back of his neck. "I…well, I…you…we…I haven't…I'm…"

"Unable to complete a sentence?" Loki offered sweetly, taking a few more steps towards Steve. "You are maddeningly adorable when you're flustered."

The statement made Steve even more ruffled.

"Steven," Loki said, lowering his voice.

"I've never done this," Steve blurted out, looking mortified.

Loki was surprised. Steve, if possible, looked more horrified when he caught Loki's reaction.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I haven't engaged in any relations in this century."

Steve pinned Loki with a withering look. Loki put on an innocently confused expression.

"I might have forgotten how."

Steve appeared doubtful.

"You— how shall I say it? You knew what to do on Asgard," Loki said, closing the distance that remained between them, standing nose to nose. Steve's eyes widen, but he didn't step back. Loki wet his lips, inwardly smirking when Steve's eyes darted down.

"You…I…uh…but…uh…"

Steve's eyes were stuck on Loki's lips. Loki smirked, snaking his arm around Steve's waist. Steve did a strange combination of tensing up and relaxing into Loki's hold as he pulled Steve till they were pressed together.

"You're fine," Loki assured.

They stood breathing the same air, basking in the fact there was no glass standing between them. Loki could touch Steve, smell Steve, and taste Steve if he so wished. Loki's fingers fluttered along Steve's side till he found the hem of the t-shirt. His lithe fingers darted under, hitting warm, smooth skin.

Steve's breath hitched and Loki smiled.

"You're perfect," Loki whispered, tracing Steve's jaw line with his other hand before closing the small distance between their lips.

* * *

_I've never been so lost / I've never felt so much at home / Please write my folks and throw away my keys_

_-Something Corporate, "I Woke Up in a Car" _

* * *

"I wish to visit Jessica."

Steve blinked. He rolled over and found himself faced with the God of Mischief. Said mischief maker smirked and tweaked Steve's noise before standing and moving to the dresser.

"Hi," Steve dumbly said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning."

"You're here."

"I am here."

"I thought I dreamed you here," Steve admitted. "I'm not dreaming."

"Oh, you might be," Loki teased, throwing a small smile over his shoulder as he pawed through Steve's clothing options in the drawers. "Where are your plaid shirts?"

Steve was pretty sure he was still dreaming, as why was Loki in his bedroom going through his dresser and asking where his plaid shirts were?

Loki pulled out a pair of khaki pants and stared at them for a moment before throwing them on the bed behind him.

"Steven?"

"What are you doing?"

"Finding clothing," Loki replied. "Ah, a closet. I thought you failed to have one."

Steve blinked several times, then rubbed his eyes again.

Loki was still there, going through his closet.

* * *

_It's nothing more than ordinary life / And I show you my sins / Show me all your scars / As we settle in / It's written in the stars_

_-Kristen Barry, "Ordinary Life"_

* * *

Loki emerged out of the bathroom, sporting borrowed clothing as he'd not brought any with him and didn't feel wearing what he'd worn the night before. Steve was still in bed, looking shell shocked. Loki sat down next to the other man and ran his fingers through Steve's mussed hair, smirking at the memories from last night when he'd buried his fingers in that soft hair and kissed the man senseless.

"Do you plan to waste the morning in bed? Thor told me there is a diner near here that has excellent coffee. If you enjoy coffee," Loki said. "I'm partial to tea, but Thor prefers Midgardian coffee."

"I've been there," Steve replied, blue eyes locking onto Loki. He sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. Steve instinctively grabbed the sheet and held it up to his chin. "I took Thor there. He suggested the place to you? Wait, he knew you'd…he knows?"

Loki quirked his eyebrow. "Of course Thor knows. I am sure several other people know my intentions. Why are you hiding behind a sheet?"

"Uh…"

Loki chuckled, grabbing the sheet and taking it out of Steve's grip. "You're fully clothed, Steven."

"Oh, yeah. Uh…sorry about that."

"You are sorry you are fully clothed?" Loki asked, staring at Steve in a manner he knew would cause the other man to turn very, very, very red. "I could remedy that."

Steve turned the anticipated shade of red and appeared as if he might pass out. Loki leaned forward, kissing the supple lips. Loki pulled back and allowed Steve to catch his breath.

"I do not mind, as I told you last night," Loki replied. "We have all the time in the world."

Steve's eyes searched Loki before asking, "You sure?"

"Of course. We will move at your pace. Your pace might be best," Loki assured, lightly kissing Steve again before standing. "Get dressed. I'm hungry."

* * *

_You're something beautiful / A contradiction / I wanna play the game, I want the friction_

_-Muse, "Time is Running Out" _

* * *

"You want to see Jess?"

"Yes. I was informed she would not appreciate me simply popping in for a visit," Loki replied, looking up from the rather large pancake he was eating.

"No. She's…well, she's keeping her location kind of on lock down," Steve explained. "Somehow she's hidden herself so Tony can't find her."

Steve was rather impressed, as he couldn't even hid from Tony if he went off the grid. (Which for Steve, wasn't that hard as he couldn't even operate his cell phone and forgot it at home half the time. And yet, Tony was still able to track him down. Steve was actually surprised Tony hadn't burst into the diner to do his daily Drill Steve For Jess's Location.)

"Hmmm. You and Clint are only privy to her location?" Loki queried, slicing the pancake into perfect bite size pieces. Steve had never witnessed anyone eat a pancake so…formally. There was a word for what this was, but Steve was having trouble thinking of it.

"Yeah. Clint found her somewhere in Alaska he won't say exactly where. She texted me her new number, but never told me where exactly she is and Alaska's a mighty big…er, state," Steve said, snapping his attention away from Loki's hands as he used the fork and knife.

"So, do you beleive she would mind if I called her?" Loki asked.

"Not, not at all," Steve quickly said. "When, uh, did you get here?"

"About an hour before I arrived at your home," Loki replied. "Thor and I landed in New Mexico, then flew via his hammer to New York and landed at Stark's. Thor was rather anxious to see Stark for unknown reasons. Once I retrieved your location from Clint, as Thor's directions were atrocious, I came to you."

"Oh. Well, uh…wait, what was Clint doing at Tony's?"

"I did not bother to find out," Loki admitted, shrugging.

"Oh, uh, well….er…"

What was it about Loki's hands that Steve found so damn distracting? He'd never felt so off kilter simply watching someone cut up a pancake. Loki glanced up and grinned, stuffing a bite of pancake into his mouth.

"I have yet to get a mobile phone that works here," Loki went on when he was finished chewing. "If I could bother you for yours?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Steve felt around in his pocket for his cell, but only found his wallet. "I left my phone at the apartment."

"Of course you did," Loki said, smiling at Steve fondly. Steve tried to return the smile, but sure it was more a rictus of embarrassment.

"Uh, er, uh, where are you staying? Stark Tower?" Steve asked, ripping his napkin to bits.

The brilliant beach glass eyes looked up from the plate and met Steve's blue ones. "I would rather not. Thor has made it possible for me to have access to Midgard currency and SHEILD has allowed me a Midgardian identity in order to attend therapy. I plan on finding my own apartment whilst I'm here."

"Your own apartment?"

"Of course. I'm not planning on going anywhere any time soon," Loki replied, glancing back down at his plate and idly twirling his knife between his fingers.

A silly smile found its way onto Steve's face till he felt a leg hook around his own and pull him closer to the table. Loki slowly looked up, a sly smile appearing. He seemed to drink in the dazed, yet still happy, expression on Steve's face before he spoke again.

"Why go anywhere, when what I want is here?"

* * *

_My happiness is slowly creeping back / Now that you're at home_

_-Powderfinger, "My Happiness" _


	4. North to the Future

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

**_North to the Future_**

* * *

_Maybe the songs that we sing are wrong / Maybe the dreams that we dream are gone / So bring it on home and it won't be long_

_-Oasis, "It's Getting Better (Man!)"_

* * *

Anchorage, Alaska was like no place Loki had visited. He'd traveled the Nine Realms and never found another place that as such an odd blend of broken down, built up, ugly, beautiful and mismatched, old and new, rustic and modern. The people were just as mixed up and mashed up as the surroundings. There were people dressed fashionably, people who looked like they rolled out of bed and forgot what century they were in, people who clearly got dressed in the dark, and finally people who clearly had not left Alaska and had no idea what one actually wore in the winter.

Standing on the corner of Fifth and C Street, Loki felt he was standing in another world rather than in a downtown metropolitan area on Midgard. A small smile graced his lips as he took a deep breath. The chill in the air, the smell of cold on the cutting wind blended with the smells of civilization mixed together and made Loki feel comfortable within his own skin.

No wonder Jess had chosen this place out of the thousands of other cold places she could have resided.

"Lo!"

Loki turned and smiled upon seeing Jess barreling across the street to meet him. (She had embraced some Alaska fashion, due to the fact she wore no coat. Loki had a jacket on and he as a freaking Frost Giant.) She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. Loki hugged her back just has hard. In the deep recesses of his mind he had been worried he would not be greeted warmly as it was completely his fault Jess's life was in the state it was in.

"Stop blaming yourself, Lo," Jess said, pulling away from him and holding him at arm's length. She swept her eyes up and down, a smile lighting up her face. "You look good, Loki. Really good. Guess Midgard's agreeing with you."

Loki gave her a look and popped the collar up on his jacket. "I thought you said it was warm."

"It is warm," Jess insisted.

Loki eyed the piles of snow as the wind whipped around the downtown, sending a fresh burst of frigid air into his face.

"Okay, it's warm for Alaska in late March," she corrected. "You should be fine, though."

"I am not cold. Steven is another story," Loki admitted.

"Ah, so that's how you swung this trip, huh? Hitched a ride with Captain America when he hit up jay bear," Jess chuckled.

"Jay Bear?" Loki inquired.

"Joint Base Elmendorf Fort Richardson. JBER."

"There is no 'F' in that acronym."

"I didn't make it. That's what they call it. JBER. I guess that is where Steve currently is, right?"

She looked around for Steve.

"Correct. Steven is currently being Captain America," Loki replied.

"Oh, so you couldn't go even if you could get on base," Jess realized, hooking her arm through his and leading him down the street. "That sucks. Well, let Steve know he can join us after he's done Captain America and he can be Steve Rogers, love of Loki's life again."

Loki gave Jess an exasperated look. Jess beamed at him and began to babble about the area, telling him about the mall across the street from them, the jewelry shop, and the various tiny restaurants they were passing. She came to a stop in front of a glass fronted salon and turned him to face the inside.

"This is where I work. It'll be awhile till I'm a full on stylist," she said. "I've got a lot of hours to put in, but I do makeup and I get to wash hair sometimes. Don't tell anyone, but I like washing hair."

She put her finger to her lips to shhhh him. They were both about to move on when a young woman within the salon began waving frantically at Jess.

"Blast. Spotted. Might as well introduce you to them," Jess said, flinging the door open. "They were all totally curious why I wanted a day off."

Loki walked into the salon and wasn't greeted by the harsh smell of chemicals. Instead, it smelled earthy and herbal. The music pumping through the salon wasn't overly loud or annoying, but rather calm inducing.

"Who is this?" the girl behind the counter asked. She eyed Loki as many females on Midgard tended to eye him.

"This is Loki Laufey-Odinson," Jess introduced. "I knew him back in Texas."

"That's a mouthful of a name," the girl muttered. She extended her hand over the counter. "I'm Tara."

"Charmed," Loki said, kissing her hand before dropping it.

"He's British!" the girl squealed.

"Who's British."

"Jess's mysterious man!"

Loki was soon surrounded by females, all asking him odd questions about his skin, his hair and his clothing.

* * *

_Used to live alone in a tomb I made my own / But now I've gone and given up my coat_

_-Ingrid Michaelson, "Keep Warm"_

* * *

Steve finished up his duties as Captain America, shed his uniform and changed into more comfortable and warmer clothing. He got back into the car SHEILD had provided and after checking the map a few more times, felt brave enough to drive off base.

Military bases had changed since Steve had last visited them. For one, the base in Anchorage was huge and everything looked the same, hence why it took Steve a few tries to actually find an exit point. Once he was off base, navigating the streets of Anchorage was easy. The city was mostly on a grid system, and there were only a few main roads and they were all clearly labeled.

Ten minutes after he'd finally exited the military base, Steve pulled the car into the parking garage he'd left Loki standing outside a few hours before. He pulled out his cell phone and verified the address Loki had sent telling him to meet him at Cafe Paris on 5th Avenue. After checking the map one last time, Steve headed out of the parking garage and down 5th Avenue. He made slow progress due to the strong, biting cold wind that was blowing right at him. He had his head bowed and only looked up when he noticed the store front change. He was hoping he was getting close to the restaurant when he walked by a glass fronted salon filled with gawking women. As Steve passed, the door swung open and he heard, "If that guy is also here to see Jess, I'm going to seriously consider moving to Texas."

Steve turned that information over in his mind. He knew Jess was in Alaska, he just wasn't aware of where in Alaska. What were the odds the real reason Loki wished to join Steve for this dancing monkey trip wasn't because he was dying to get out of New York, but in fact had organized a meeting with Jess?

Steve reached the restaurant and paused outside the doors, debating on if he ought to just go on or if he ought to let Loki know he was here. He shifted back and forth on his heels for a moment before flinging the door open and entering the dark restaurant. After allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness (it was really sunny outside), he easily spotted Loki sitting in a booth along the wall with a purple headed woman, who Steve guessed was Jess. Steve smiled and pointed to indicate to the waitress with the menus he saw the party he was looking for and started towards the pair.

"So, you are truly happy here?"

"Yeah, Lo. I realized I was at the wrong college shortly after I got there," Jess said, tearing apart the sandwich on her plate. "I love hair, makeup and all that jazz. I mean, look at me!"

Steve paused, wanting to hear the pair talk freely. Steve hadn't realized how dead and zombie like Jess had become after she'd woken up on Asgard, but seeing her now (even if it was just the back of her head) radiating with excitement, Steve had to agree with Clint this was the best move for her.

"But…isn't this what you were doing before?"

"No! I was hawking makeup! I just put it on people now and after I complete my training, I'll be doing hair," Jess said, glee evident in her tone. "I love hair. And you saw where I'll be working. They've got a chair waiting for me."

Loki nodded his head, staring into the depths of the tea cup in front of him.

"Jessica…I…"

"If you try to apologize again, I will punch you and you will feel the thunder in your nose," Jess said, a teasing edge to her voice yet Steve knew she was serious.

Loki's mouth tightened and he looked up, pinning Jess with those terre verte eyes. In the dim light, Steve could not see the wide array of greens that made up those eyes he so dearly adored, but he could see the tension and pain in them.

"Jessica, it's my fault."

"No regrets, Loki Laufey-Odinson. No regrets. Remember when I told you that I felt out of place my whole life? Remember? I don't feel out of place here. Not once. And here…I've found my people. You met them! They are just as weird as I am and this whole city…god, it's brilliant. It's a mixture of rednecks, hippies, old military people and everyone in between. And wait till you see the adorable townhouse I'm living in. It's totally me! It's got a dark purple door and the place is green!"

Steve watched Loki's face carefully to see his reaction to her announcement. While Steve had thought he had a handle on Loki before, the last two weeks had shown Steve new facets of Loki. He felt closer to the man now than he'd had after he had left Asgard. Steve was comfortable in stating Loki still felt horribly guilty for the trials Jess had suffered since she's arrived on Midgard, even seeing how pleased she was and seemingly flourishing in her new environment.

And he always would. Loki would carry that guilt around like a sack of coal.

"Steven," Loki said, suddenly realizing Steve was standing in the shadows near the table.

Loki's whole being shifted upon spotting Steve. Steve hated to call it "perking up", but he couldn't think of a better way to describe the change.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?"

"Steve!" Jess squealed, shooting to her feet.

Steve was relieved she was happy to see him and not upset with Loki for telling Steve where he was, thus letting Steve know where she was.

Jess threw her arms around Steve's neck and swung from his neck in her attempt to fully hug him. Steve grabbed onto her before she managed to hurt herself. Loki hid a grin behind his hand, which prompted Steve to realize he was holding Jess by her waist and her feet weren't touching the ground. Steve bent forward and set her on the ground. Jess released him from the hug and bounced up and down, smiling largely and shouted, "Sit! Sit! Tell me all about everything you two are doing!"

Steve felt his cheeks heat up and he was glad for the dim lighting of the cafe. Loki scooted over and patted the now open space next to him. Steve slid into the booth as Jess got back into her own side.

"We've already got our food," Jess said, indicating to her plate filled with torn up sandwich. "But feel free to order when the waitress returns. And she will return."

Loki sighed, leaning into Steve's personal space. "Do try to look not so adorable. I don't want to loose a fan to you."

"Er…"

What was he talking about?

"Did you walk passed the salon?" Jess asked.

"Uh…"

"Yes, he likely did as it's the most direct route from the parking garage to here," Loki said, straightening up.

"Oh, I bet that made their day," Jess giggled. "They were big Loki fans. Just like the entire female population on Other Earth."

Loki scowled. "Those were Hiddleston fans. Not mine."

"Oh, no, they were fans of Loki," Jess assured. "Did you miss the whole Comic-Con thing?"

Loki glowered.

"Comic what?" Steve asked, looking between the two.

"During the time Loki was hanging out on Other Earth, Comic-Con took place. They've got it here. But, anyways, since _Thor 2_ was coming out in the fall, Hiddleston was there to promote it. He snuck into San Diego dressed as a _Star Wars _character, dressed up as Loki and gave the entire audience who was there to see the new trailer a heart attack."

Loki scoffed. "He did an abysmal job at staying in character."

"He did not! He was awesome! He cosplayed himself!"

"ME! He was playing ME."

Steve looked between the two, having a feeling they'd had this argument before.

Jess folded her arms across her chest. "You're the one who wouldn't pop me out to San Diego to meet him. After you stalked him."

"I did not stalk him."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Who is Hiddleston?"

"The guy who looks like Loki on Other Earth and played him in the movies," Jess replied, turning her attention to Steve. "He's got an army of fangirls. They are seriously kind of weird. Sometimes more so than Sherlockians."

"Sherlockians are mad," Loki whispered to Steve.

"What's a Sherlockian?"

"Someone who's a fan of the BBC show _Sherlock_ starring the man with the greatest, most British sounding name out there: Benedict Cumberbatch! He exists here and it's awesome," Jess insisted, smiling like a maniac. "Anyways, I told the girls in the salon Loki was gay, but that didn't seem to hinder their interest."

Steve flushed red, opening and closing his mouth a few times till it simply hung open. Loki reached up and tapped his jaw, making him snap it shut.

"Do you want anything, Steven? Or did they feed you at the base?" Loki asked, looking unbothered by the fact Jess had told a bunch of strangers his—

Oh. Loki wasn't bothered at all.

Steve, if possible, turned redder. "Uh, no. I'm…good."

Loki quirked an eyebrow, pinning Steve in place with those absurd green eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Peachy keen."

"No one says that any more. I'm not sure they said that in your time," Jess laughed.

"So, uh, you two get all caught up?" Steve asked, aware his voice was still a little high.

"Yeah. Told him all about my life of makeup and hair and how brilliant my purple front door is!" Jess exclaimed.

Steve smiled, taking in the sheer joy radiating off of Jess. Under the table he rubbed his sweaty palms against his thighs till he felt a slightly chilled hand rest on top of his hands. He felt instantly calmed and embarrassed of his reaction.

He had to stop thinking with his 1940s mores.

Steve glanced at Loki out of the corner of his eye. Loki wore a mild expression, trying to hide the fact he was carrying around that sack of coal and getting somewhat tired with Steve's reactions. Without glancing around to see if anyone was watching, Steve turned his hand over. Loki instantly wove his long fingers with Steve's own stubby ones. Steve squeezed Loki's hand, knowing it was hard for Loki to deal with everything Jess had been through in the last eight months. (Not to mention Steve's issues…along with the demigod's own.)

"So, you two wanna come over?" Jess asked. "I don't have class tonight, so I can treat you to some fine Alaska dining. I've got reindeer sausage and some Alaska salmon that my neighbor gave me. She caught it last salmon run, but it's been frozen so it's still good. I put it in the fridge to thaw, hoping you two would join me."

Jess smiled.

"Of course," Loki said without consulting with Steve.

"You eat reindeer?" Steve asked, staring at Jess.

Jess gave him a rather Loki-ish smirk. "Why, of course. I've gone native."

* * *

_When she was just a girl / She expected the world / But it flew away from her reach / So she ran away in her sleep_

_-Coldplay, "Paradise" _

* * *

"So. How is she? Frozen? Bored stiff? Miserable? Confused? Coming home as soon as possible? Planning to make a bid for Senate? Writing the next, great American novel?"

Tony shot off the questions rapidly and so quickly, Steve wasn't sure if they were actual questions.

"How did you get into my apartment? I know I locked the door," Steve said, eyeing the man. "And why are you here?"

"To ask you how Jess is! I know you saw her! You took GQ with you to a Captain America thing at a military base!"

"What does Jess have to do with that?"

Tony leveled Steve a look that normally would have made Steve's skin crawl and cave into doing what Tony wanted just to make Tony go away.

"You took your boyfriend with you for a Captain America thing," Tony said slowly, enunciating each word. "You don't take your boyfriend to a Captain America shindig."

Steve tried really hard not to blush at the "boyfriend" reference. While Fury didn't give two shakes about Steve Roger's personal life, he'd made it clear Captain America lacked any form of personal life that wasn't the ideal apple pie kind of life. That meant not having a demigod as a boyfriend who once tried to take over the world. (As the wider world failed to know there'd been two Gods of Mischief running around at the time and only one of them was trying to subjugate the world.)

Steve had a boyfriend.

He blinked several time, staring stupidly at Tony who huffed his annoyance, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I know you two have been attached at the hip since Loki came down here for some good old fashion therapy— which is just bizarre, as aren't Asgardians supposed to be 'better' than us?" Tony scoffed, using air quotes with his fingers. "Whatever. So, she's in Alaska? Why the hell would she go there?"

"No idea," Steve lied.

Steve understood perfectly well why she had chosen Anchorage, Alaska as a place to settle down and live her life.

"I will find her."

"Tony, she wants to be left alone. If you really want to see how she's doing, write her a letter," Steve suggested.

"A letter? No one writes letters anymore, gramps," Tony snarled. "We email these days."

Tony turned on his heel and stalked out. Steve stood up and went into his room, searched around for a moment till he found his cell phone. It took him a few moments to get his clumsy, too-large-for-the-screen fingers to work the thing right, but he eventually found the number he was looking for. It took a few more tries before the contraption actually dialed and he listened to the thing as it connected and rung.

"Tony's getting close."

"Damn."

* * *

_'Round the bend / The sun is in the sky / It's starting to look like / It's gonna be, yeah, it's gonna be a bright, beautiful day_

_-Aqualung, "Good Times Gonna Come" _

* * *

"Tony found me."

"I'm sorry. I think he caught on when Steve made a trip to Alaska to speak to the troops," Loki replied.

"Yeah. Steve warned me earlier today Tony was getting close to figuring it out. I guess he broke into Steve's apartment to drill him. Tony didn't show up, just sent me an email telling me he knew where I was," Jess said. "So, I guess that's good. I mean, I didn't want to totally loose contact with Tony…he's just a little much."

"Understandable. He's rather…"

"He's an in your face kind of person," Jess laughed. "I adore the man, I like him, but in tiny doses. And half the time I've got no clue what he's talking about."

"He's rather rude," Loki allowed.

Jess snorted. "Yeah, well, you two do get along."

"Yes, I know. When he's not mocking me for my choice of mates."

"Mates? You've mated with Steve?"

There was a long drawn out silence over the phone line.

"Loki?"

"Mated no. It was the wrong choice of word. We're…dating."

Jess laughed. "Oh, good. Dating is a good thing, Loki. Steve's not exactly a Don Juan."

Loki thought for a moment, trying to remember who Don Juan happened to be. "No, I believe not. He's quite…old fashion by today's standards. And he…well, he's…"

"Still dealing with the fact he's from an era the type of relationship he's having with you wasn't the norm?"

"Yes. There is that as well," Loki admitted, letting out a quiet sigh.

"But, you're not getting frustrated with him? I get the feeling you're not like my maternal grandfather and a Casanova getting it on with people and popping out strange children."

"No. I was…rather pedestrian like in my romantic endeavors," Loki stiffly admitted.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Lo," Jess assured. "Well, I gotta go. Break's over. Just wanted to let y'all know Tony's hunted me down so now all ya all know where I'm hiding."

"Did you think you could hide forever?"

"I hid for as long as I needed," Jess admitted. "Tony was actually the last one to find me, so it's all good. Natasha is currently living across the street spying on me, Bruce sent me an email about two hours after I got a new address set up, and you, Steve, and Clint were informed by myself where myself is currently located."

Loki chuckled.

"And Nick Fury sent me to Alaska," Jess finished. "He's okay when he's not being an angry elf."

"Dear, he cannot be an elf. He's much too tall."

* * *

_Build something, build a better place and call it home / Even if it means nothing, you'll never, ever feel that you're alone_

_-Oasis, "It's Getting Better (Man!)"_


	5. Seward's Folly

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. **

_This takes place between the scene in the cafe and when Tony bursts into Steve's apartment in _North to the Future_._

* * *

**_Seward's Folly_**

* * *

_There is a design, and alignment to cry / Of my heart to see / The beauty of love as it was made to be_

_-Mumford & Sons, "Sigh No More" _

* * *

"We must go on a date."

Steve blinked, asking rather dumbly and inarticulately, "Huh?"

Loki leveled him with a look that lacked the usual fondness Loki wore when Steve was being exceptionally dense. (Granted, Steve was a little slow on the uptake often.)

(Though, he didn't have his own patented Loki-Thinks-You're-Stupid look like Clint and Tony did.)

(Well, maybe he did, he just failed to realize he'd gained his own unique Loki-Thinks-I'm-Stupid look because he got it so often?)

"We are dating, Steven."

"We are?"

"Are we not?"

"I don't know," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted around the terminal.

Why did Loki pick an airport to have this discussion? They were seated in the Ted Stevens International Airport and the sun hadn't even popped up over the mountains to the east of the city. The sky was finally lightening, but there was no sign of the actual sun as of yet.

"I understand you are from a different era and people were not kind—"

"Loki," Steve said in a warning tone. "Not here."

Loki gave Steve a look of haughtiness before turning away and staring out the large windows that showcased the beautiful panoramic view of Anchorage and the surrounding mountain range. Steve was sure there was no place you could go in Alaska that didn't offer some sort of stunning panorama. Even standing in downtown Anchorage the snowcapped mountains were visible.

"Then where, Steven? This trip is the first time you've been in public with me since I arrived two weeks ago," Loki said, doing his best to hide behind a blank mask.

Steve saw through it and kicked himself mentally for failing to realize Loki would— oh, Steve had no idea how to put it. Loki was by no means unobservant, thus likely had noticed how people in relationships behaved while in public. Loki might be an alien, but he was no idiot alien.

Steve raked a hand through his hair, then closed his eyes as he buried his face in his hands.

"All I am requesting is that we have dinner," Loki said in a soft tone. "Steven, look at me and stop hiding behind those hands."

The way Loki uttered _those hands_ made Steve blush. He did as Loki requested and lifted his face out of his hands, his ears turning red to match his cheeks.

He wanted to chop off his hands and he wasn't aware they had done anything.

Recently.

Like in the last few days.

"What are you thinking about? You're red," Loki said, amusement painting his tone in contrast to his serious expression.

"N-N-Nothing," Steve stuttered. "You want to go to dinner? Didn't we do that?"

"With others," Loki said, losing any hint of humor in his features. "Each meal we've dined outside the confines of your apartment have been with an escort. I wasn't aware one still needed an escort to go on dates. Not that Clint made the ideal chaperone."

Steve cringed at the memory of the meal with Clint. The three had gone to the greasy spoon diner Clint adored near Steve's apartment. At first, Steve worried Loki would turn up his nose and refuse to enter, but he went right in, ate a greasy burger, and gave Clint more fodder for his never ending Let's Tease Steve Till He's A Tomato campaign.

Steve peeked at Loki, who was once again staring out the window as if nothing was amiss. Steve sighed. There was a stunning person sitting next to him in the airport who was…well, was interested in Steve (of all people) and Steve was acting like a total idiot.

"I'm not requesting to maul you in public that like couple," Loki said, indicating with a rather thoughtless wave of a hand to his right. "I prefer we keep that to ourselves."

Steve followed where Loki had specified to see a young couple making out like it was going to go out of style. They broke apart for a moment and the girl plastered herself to the boy. Steve's blush traveled from his face and headed for his chest at the memory of Loki clinging him in a similar manner just that morning. (Was it really morning when they got up? The sun wasn't even up yet.)

Loki and Steve hadn't done anything passed some kissing and brushing bare skin with hands, but since Loki had yet to find an apartment, he spent the nights at Steve's. At first he slept on the couch, but the couch was way too short for the six foot two Loki, so Steve said they could share the bed.

Or stuttered, stammered, and never actually got the actual words out.

However, since this invitation, Loki spent the night in the bed with Steve, always starting out on his own side. Steve, who almost alway awoke before Loki, found Loki each morning wrapped around him like langur monkey. Steve didn't mind. He rather liked waking up to find himself trapped in bed by Loki's long, pale limbs.

"You are ashamed."

Steve startled. "What?"

"Of me or us."

Steve stared wide eyed at Loki, unsure what he could say that would not end with a rather irate Loki. (Not that he currently had a placid Loki.)

* * *

_You just smile and run the other way / And faith won't find me a reason / It just smiles and runs the other way_

_-Pilot Speed, "Barely Listening_

* * *

Loki knew this was the wrong time and place to discuss the subject, but he wasn't interested in sitting through a seven hour plane ride without the matter dealt with. It had been bothering him since Jess had asked, "So, you dating Steve? Is he heaping you with roses and dinners?"

Steve wasn't heaping Loki with any of those. Taking in the state of his face, Jess realized something that Loki had clearly missed.

"You've got no idea what dating means here on Midgard, do you?"

Jess explained the concept and it sounded very acceptable to Loki. It was a simple request: dinner. Just the two of them. Alone. Somewhere nice. (Not that Loki minded the diner Clint had taken them, but he did crave something finer.)

"And be nice about it, Lo. Steve's from another era," Jess had reminded him.

Loki had assured her he would be kind. He glanced at the man next to him, taking in the worried expression on the blonde's face.

"Steven," Loki sighed, "it's only dinner. Two men are allowed to dine together, are they not? That is not frowned upon in the make-believe world Captain America resides within?"

Loki wasn't pleased with the fact Fury had bluntly told Steve that while he did not care what Steve did in private, as Captain America his life wasn't his. Captain America would never be connected with Loki of Asgard in any manner other than to fight him and save the Earth from subjugation.

(Nor would he be connected with Loki Laufey-Odinson, as he was a guy and looked exactly like Loki of Asgard.)

(Loki was not happy no one had put out there that Loki, while the bad guy, had also been a good guy. He was not a one dimensional villain, nor good guy.)

"You want to go on a date?" Steve asked, his voice a little high. He rubbed the back of his neck.

Loki waited for Steve to look around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, or watching, but Steve's crystal blue eyes remained locked on Loki's green ones.

Inside, Loki grinned.

* * *

_I know, I know this is what I missed / Your eyes are just for me / Really can't see how we could be / I still put trust in fate_

_-Ghost of the Robot, "David Letterman"_

* * *

"Dates are things…I…I never went on a date that wasn't set up by Bucky," Steve finally admitted. "And, what do people do on dates these days? And…and…"

"And what?"

Steve felt his cheeks color further. He looked away from Loki and over the demigod's shoulder as the sky behind him continued to pink with the coming day.

"Is it because of my gender? I could," Loki paused, leaning closer and said, "turn into a woman if that would make you more comfortable. I tend to think of myself as male, but I have the ability to become female."

"What?" Steve screeched. "That's not it. What? No. How?"

"Magic," Loki said as if Steve was stupid. "While my magic is bound, my shape shifting is separate, as I am not currently blue."

Steve gawked at Loki, who folded his arms across his chest and gave Steve a look that froze Steve's insides.

"If my becoming a different gender will not aid, then what, Steven?"

"I've never…asked…or been….asked, and well, uh…"

"Ask me," Loki ordered.

Steve's eyes snapped back to Loki and he stared at him in confusion.

"Ask me. I assure you I will not turn you down."

"But, you already asked me."

"Ask me," Loki ordered, his tone daring Steve not to obey.

"Okay, I will ask you," Steve allowed, feeling a combination of relief, panic, and something else he wasn't sure he could describe. "But, I want to plan something before I ask you. I don't…I need to figure out what to do."

"Fine."

Loki turned away, staring straight ahead with a blank expression on his face.

Steve's mind jumped from one thing to another, desperate to figure out how to make this right, how to be normal, how to be who he wanted to be, do what he wanted, and not upset the world.

At some point, the world was likely to be upset. It was unavoidable. Not everyone could be happy. But, there was one person seated next to Steve who would likely be thrilled if Steve took him out to dinner at a nice restaurant in Manhattan.

Steve really wanted to do that.

* * *

_If I quote all the lines off the top of my head / Would you believe that I fully understand all the things I've read_

_-Lifehouse, "Trying"_

* * *

"Hold on. I'll be right back."

Loki watched Steve hurry off, wondering where he was going. Loki dragged his carry-on closer and pulled out the tablet Stark had gifted Loki upon his arrival back on Midgard. Flicking it to life with his finger, he pulled up the book he'd downloaded and began to read. He stopped when he felt Steve sit back down.

"Okay. Loki, would you go to dinner with me tomorrow evening?" Steve asked, his eyes looking a little timid and unsure. "I know this great little restaurant. It's in Manhattan and according to Tony, it's still there."

Loki quirked an eyebrow.

"Restaurants come and go in New York City," Steve explained hurridly. "I wasn't sure if it was still there, but it is."

"You've been before?"

"In another life. It's run by the grandkids now," Steve said, grimacing at the reminder of those lost years.

Loki reached across the space between them and lightly put his hand on Steve bare forearm (Steve had removed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves as the airport (as well as everywhere else they'd gone within Anchorage) liked to keep the heat on BOILING with no regards to the fact everyone baked to death when dressed for winter).

"It sounds wonderful, Steven," Loki said, quickly withdrawing his hand before it could make Steve uncomfortable.

Steve reached out before Loki had fully gotten his own hand back to his own personal space and grabbed it.

"So, that's a yes?" Steve asked, gripping Loki's hand. If he'd not been who he was, Steve would have likely broken his hand.

"Of course, Steven," Loki said, giving into the urge to smile at the man before him.

Steve might occasionally frustrate Loki, but it was worth all the frustration in the world when Loki noticed within the depth of those blue eyes something he'd never seen within anyone else's eyes.

Steve squeezed Loki's hand, loosened his death grip, smiled (a breath taking smile), and said, "Good. I made reservations for seven. Tony said that was too early for a date, but we tend to go to bed at ten."

Steve said the last sentence absently, like it was completely wonted. Loki marveled at the man who got so flustered by being asked to go on a date by a man, yet could casually state he and the same man went to bed (together) at a certain time.

Loki glanced over Steve's shoulders at the older woman who had taken the seat next to them. She was pretending to read a book, a small smile on her lips indicating she'd clearly been eavesdropping on their conversation. She glanced over, caught Loki looking at her, and winked.

Loki turned his gaze back to Steve. The woman was younger than Steve would have been if he'd not been trapped in the ice for seventy years, but Loki was sure she was old enough to remember when a relationship such as Loki and Steve's was frowned upon. (Loki had done researched and asked Jess the history of homosexual relationships in order to better understand some of Steve's hangups.)

Loki wove his fingers with Steve's and placed their hands between them. To an outsider, it simply looked as if the two men were sitting abnormally close. Loki leaned in further and began to whisper to Steve about mundane observations he was making, many which caused Steve to smile.

* * *

_Like a fool for fire, I fall, with my pride and all / Like a bomb before explosion / Ticking by your call / You're the wiser one, disguised from greed_

_-Adele, "I Found a Boy"_

* * *

"So, did you get your date?"

"Yes, I got my date."

"Did it take the entire flight to Chicago?"

"No. It was settled before we left Anchorage."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm shocked you do not know. He called Stark."

"He called TONY? Why on Earth did he call Tony?"

"To inquire if there was a restaurant he'd gone to in the forties was still around," Loki replied quietly, scrolling through the listings of apartments in his price range located within a few blocks of Steve's.

None of them met his liking, if he were honest.

"I could have done that. I got internet. There's even 4G here in Anchorage!"

"I know. I'm not sure why he called Stark."

"Because they are secretly friends," Jess whispered.

Loki snorted. "While Stark would adore to have everyone living in the tower with him, those two are not friends."

"Oh, come on. They get along just fine," Jess insisted. "They get on better than they did in the movie, remember? They didn't have any of those stupid fights about how Tony's a jerk in a suit and if you take away his Iron Man suit he's just Sherlock Holmes."

"Jessica, that wasn't in the movie."

"Oh, yeah. That was a Pintrest thing," Jess laughed. "So, when's this date?"

"Tonight," Loki said. "What do you think Steven would do if I never found my own residence?"

"The Mexican Hat dance Homer style."

Loki closed his eyes and shook his head. "I have no idea what that means."

* * *

_Do you like my stupid hair? / Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? / I'm too scared of what you think / You make me nervous so I really can't eat_

_-Blink 182, "First Date" _

* * *

Steve was a nervous wreck.

He felt like a kid with sweaty palms and a turbulent stomach doing an intimation of a stormy sea. He'd not felt this nervous since the night before he underwent the serum injection— and this was ten times worst for some unknown reason.

Steve was not about to subject himself to a scientific experiment. There was no unknown here. It was not a life or death situation. It was just dinner.

How did people do this?

And they did. Every single day. People went on dates, whether they went with someone of the same gender or a different gender.

Was Steve even going with someone of his gender? Loki was a Frost Giant and could change forms, evidently.

Steve shivered.

Loki as a woman. Did that appeal to him?

"No," Steve harshly said to himself, grabbing his dinner jacket off the back of the chair where he'd slung it. "No. Don't even…"

Now, along with being a ball of nerves, he was angry at himself. Steve had always been opened minded. He'd always looked passed what a person looked like and saw their worth, their potential. It was what had wound up elevating him from a ninety pound weakling into what he was: Captain America.

Steve shrugged into the jacket and straightened his tie for the millionth time.

"Are you ready?"

Steve startled, forgetting that Loki was still within the apartment. Turning, Steve found Loki draped in the doorway to the bedroom wearing black trousers, matching vest, and a white button down shirt. Somehow, he'd managed to make wearing a tie look cool and not stuffy. Steve fiddled with his, as he hated having things around his neck like ties and bow-ties.

"Cease fidgeting," Loki chided, crossing the room in a few short steps. He reached up and brushed Steve's hands aside, fixing the tie. Steve's eyes glued onto Loki's pale neck, more so on display from the fact he'd brushed his hair back than the fact his collar was open.

How was he wearing a tie with his collar open?

"Do you have a jacket?" Steve asked, thankful his voice came out sounding normal. "It's kind of cold."

"I have a coat," Loki assured, eyes dancing as he watched Steve. Steve dumbly stared into those beach glass eyes and forgot what why he was nervous in the first place. "Now, shall we go?"

Oh, yeah. Dinner. Date. Loki.

Steve nodded, unable to voice words. Loki smiled, taking a few steps backwards before turning and striding off.

* * *

_And nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention / I reckon it's my turn to win some or learn some_

_-Jason Mraz, "I'm Yours" _

* * *

Steve was maddeningly adorable when he was nervous.

He was also tongue tied when he was overwrought, so he hadn't been the best conversationalist on their way to the restaurant. Once they were seated and Loki began to chat about mundane things (mostly so he himself wouldn't second guess himself for suggesting the date in the first place), Steve snapped out of his neurotic state and reverted into the man that had captured Loki's attention in the first place.

"I never did understand that," Steve said, latching onto Loki's bafflement at what constituted for art on Midgard. "And I'm an artist. Or at least, I like to think I could be."

"Steven, you are," Loki assured. "Just because you fail to understand contemporary art, doesn't mean you're not an artist."

If there was one thing— besides freedom and what was right— Steve was passionate about it was art.

"How is a white block in a white room art?" Steve asked, looking baffled. "The Modern Art movement was amazing. How did we go from that— taking art to new levels and creating new methods of painting to having a canvas painted in one solid color and selling it for thousands?"

Loki chuckled. "That I cannot answer. I'm still new to this whole art world on Mid— Earth."

Loki had been trying to call the planet its proper name, especially as he was now living here. Its inhabitants did not go around referring to their planet as Midgard.

"It's just one of the many things that changed while I was on ice," Steve muttered, stabbing his steak a little viciously.

"What about the man who threw paint all over the place?" Loki inquired.

Steve sighed deeply and went off on a tangent on Jackson Pollock— the artist who threw paint all over the place and called it a day.

* * *

_I'd never ask you to change / If perfect's what you're searching for / Then just stay the same_

_-Bruno Mars, "Just The Way You Are"_

* * *

"That was rather nice," Loki said as they walked down the street after their meal. "We ought to do it again."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Uh, thanks."

"For what? You insisted on paying for our meal," Loki said, looking honestly confused.

"For putting up with me."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "I do not put up with you, Steven. I enjoy being around you, no matter how odd you behave."

Steve cleared his throat, watching a few people pass them on the street. One took a double look at him before moving on. Steve ducked his head and accidentally rammed into Loki.

"Sorry. I mean…I know…I'm…well, uh…"

Loki sighed, giving Steve a smile.

"Dear Steven, while I might occasionally get frustrated with you, I do not plan to allow your small issues to derail us," Loki assured. "I hope one day you'll see no one cares."

"I know. I know. I know this is a different world. I know the way people think has changed," Steve admitted. "It's just…"

"Hard to rewrite your mind," Loki said. "The offer is still on the table."

"No," Steve said, feeling anger well up within him. "No. I like you the way you are."

"Alabaster instead of blue?

Steve sputtered.

Loki smirked, slinging his arm over Steve's shoulder and pulling him closer. "I know that wasn't what you meant."

Steve continued to sputter incoherently.

"You rather I remain male, then, yes?"

Steve nodded, stopping and pulling Loki so he was standing in front of him. "You said yourself you think of yourself as male. It's who you are."

"I can be anyone."

"I just want you."

Loki's eyes suddenly went bright and he stared at Steve as if it was the first time he was seeing him.

"I just want you," Steve repeated and then on the street, in full view of anyone passing, he kissed Loki.

* * *

_Love: it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you / It will set you free / Be more like the man you were made to be_

_-Mumford & Sons, "Sigh No More"_


	6. Spirit of Courage

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. **

* * *

**_Spirit of Courage_**

* * *

_You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug / You can be the outcast or be the backlash of somebody's lack of love / Or you can start speaking up_

_-Sara Bareilles, "Brave" _

* * *

Bruce watched the God of Mischief as he brooded in the lab, his legs spread and his elbows resting above his bent knees. Loki's head was bowed forward and his large, long fingered hands were pressed palms together to the point his hands were white. The tension radiating off the man was stifling.

"How do you do it? How do you live with the Hulk within?"

Bruce had no idea how to answer that question, having never been brave enough to face his problems head on. He simply dealt with it by shielding away from other people (and running away from those were after the Hulk to weaponize him), living in squalor and doing what he could to right the wrongs he'd done. He'd never spoken to anyone about any of it, never had the nerve to reach out and state: _I need help. _

"I don't," Bruce quietly admitted.

Loki slowly raised his head and nailed Bruce with those odd green eyes. Bruce had caught Steve on more than one occasion waxing on about those eyes under his breath when he thought he was alone and sketching up a storm.

Bruce remembered what those eyes looked like the first time he met Loki in the slums of India, where the man stuck out like a sore thumb. Everything about Loki screamed WRONG WORLD and all Bruce had seen was his face. The pale skin, the careless way his dark hair fell across his forehead utterly perfectly, the cheekbones, his eyebrows— hell, even the shade of black Loki's hair accented those other worldly eyes.

And this creature was there for Bruce, there to bring him back to the world and into an organization Bruce had been running from.

The only reason Bruce even went with Loki was because like Bruce, Loki had a monster living within him.

Of course, it turned out to be a thousand times worst than the red eyed, blue skinned being that lurked under the alabaster skin— Loki had duel personalities. He had a twisted, deluded self that was violent, relished in chaos, and wanted to subjugate the population of Earth (or at least claimed to…Bruce was never sure if that side of Loki was aiming for world domination or was simply desperate for attention).

How the man had not reverted to his crazy, bag of cats mind once the two different sides of him melded back together was a miracle. Bruce was honestly amazed after Loki and Thor had explained Loki had "put himself together" the demigod wasn't deranged. Bruce saw him struggle during those days after the battle, but, at the end of the day, the Loki he'd first known was still the more dominate personality— the clever, playfully mischievous one who'd hide your left shoe. This was the Loki Thor swore up and down was the brother he dearly loved, the man Bruce had decide to trust to take him back into the world.

Bruce struggled being back in the modern world. It wasn't easy living in Stark Tower and socializing regularly with a group of mismatched super heroes. It was hard to deal with Tony's mood swings, hard to cope with the manic genius when he was hopped up on no sleep and had a head brimming with ideas. (And things just happened to Tony— like pissing off some guy thirteen years ago who decides NOW is the time to take his revenge.) It was trying to walk the streets of New York City when people got in his way, took what he was looking at, and tried to push him over the fragile line that he erected to keep the Other Guy in check.

The Other Guy hadn't appeared in over eight months, but Bruce could feel him, simmering in the back of his mind daily.

As he thought this, Bruce realized the Other Guy was calmly hanging out for the first time in a long while— just like he'd done on the Hellicarrier when he and Loki worked side by side trying to find the Tesseract. When Loki was in the lab with him, the Other Guy was…cool.

While Tony accepted the Other Guy and actually _liked_ him. Bruce didn't blame him, as the Hulk had plucked Tony out of the sky after Tony thrown a bomb on the alien mother ship. This accomplished two things: prevented Tony from drowning and made the Hulk into a hero, as he'd saved Tony Stark. But, Tony was still, well, Tony. He was still manic, self-obsessed, and loud. And he still liked to POKE Bruce to see if he could get the Hulk to come out and play.

The Other Guy _liked_ only two people in the whole world: Tony Stark and Loki Laufey-Odinson. The Other Guy clearly liked Loki more as he was chilling in the back of Bruce's mind, not simmering on the surface as he so often did in Tony's presence. (Maybe because he _wanted_ to come out and play like Tony wanted? Bruce didn't know. He and the Hulk didn't often talk.)

"You do, Bruce," Loki quietly insisted, looking back at the floor. He pressed his palms together harder, the lines of tension in his body growing. "I'm not sure this is working."

"Talking to me?"

"No. Therapy. Being on Midgard," Loki admitted.

Bruce frowned, rolling his chair out from behind his desk and putting himself right in front of Loki. "I thought you were happy. You seemed better…not that I saw a lot of you when you…well, uh, you know."

"When I was deranged and thinking of ruling this world? I never wished to rule. No, I…" Loki trailed off, unable to put what he wanted into words.

And boy did he look frustrated.

"I only aligned myself with Thanos and his minions in order to get out of there," Loki admitted. "Ruling Midgard…no, I never wished for that to come to fruition. I chose Midgard in order to draw Thor's attention. He so loves this realm."

Loki looked bitter, shaking his head, his dark hair falling into his face and hiding him from Bruce.

"And yet, once I was here…the thrall took over and I knew I had to…and I was two people," Loki went on, shaking his hair out of his face. "That is the problem. There are two separate people within. There is the one who knows what I feel is unfounded. Why hold anger at Odin? Why hold such malice towards Thor? It was much my own fault as theirs. I did not have to make the choices I did. But, I made those choices. I cannot change the past. I should let it go. I need to."

Loki wove his fingers together, crushing them together so hard Bruce could hear bones cracking.

"And yet, I am still quite enraged at them both. Quite…vexed and I cannot for the life of me figure out why. I have everything I could desire," Loki whispered angrily. "I have Steven, I have friends, people who accept me for who I am, and I know my adoptive family loves me."

Bruce watched the being across from him fall into disarray. It happened quickly and chaotically. One minute, Loki was rational. The next, he looked at Bruce with those strange green eyes and the crazy was clear— just as it'd been obvious to Bruce in Reindeer Games. Bruce's eyes widened as he and Loki stared at one another. He was almost afraid to breathe in for fear of smelling the crazy.

The Other Guy growled in the back of his head, no longer at ease.

"So, I ask, how do you do it? The bea— the Other Guy. He is anger and rage. How do you live so calmly and peacefully?"

Bruce swallowed and tried to keep eye contact with Loki. However, it was too much, so he broke and stared off to the right. The Other Guy was restless now that the Loki he's smashed into the ground was sitting across from them.

"We exist together," Bruce quietly admitted. "He is there under the surface and everyday is a struggle to not allow him to take over. I'm always angry…I'm always…"

Bruce turned back to face Loki and found Loki's whole face had fallen, the anger seeping out. Loki looked as if Bruce had just told him his dog was dead.

"You deal," Loki whispered, hands finally unlocking to fall limply to his side. "You…"

"I ran away, Loki. I hid myself away till you dragged me back here."

Loki looked as if he was about to cry.

"And I'm glad you did," Bruce said in a rush. "I'd become very isolated and had no one. While that kept the Other Guy in check, I…it wasn't the life I'd imagined. I know I can never have that life, but I can still…make a difference like I first wanted. Thanks to you, I can do research and I can do what I love. I don't have to hide away afraid for my life or fear those who'd use the Hulkl for their own gain."

"No one could use the Hulk against his will," Loki reminded Bruce.

"No, but…I don't have to hide."

"No, no you do not," Loki quietly agreed, sitting up straight and reverting to the royal posture he carried himself usually. He raked a hand through his hair before he winced and stared at his hand.

"Did you break your fingers?"

"I believe I did," Loki said, sounding amazed.

Bruce grimaced, but stood and got the first aid kit he kept on hand. (Tony was a walking disaster. It was honestly amazing the guy was still alive and in (mostly) one piece.)

"I keep forgetting my magic is bound," Loki went on, still sounding astonished.

Bruce turned back around to find the God of Mischief still studying his broken fingers with a look of grotesque fascination.

"The are not healing," Loki whispered. "It hurts."

Loki made a strange face, then looked up at Bruce.

"You're no stranger to pain, Loki. You've broken bones and had your skin all burned off since I met you. Hell, the Other Guy pounded you into the ground. That must have broken some bones."

"My magic instantly begins the healing process," Loki whispered, looking back at his hands. "This…this is different. There's no magic flowing through me…so they are simply…broken."

Bruce wanted to ask Loki follow up questions to this insight into how his magic worked, but didn't. Instead, he sat down and scooted closer. Gently, Bruce reached for Loki's hand. He was familiar with setting bones and let his training in first aid take over. While he'd never trained as a medical doctor, he'd learned quite a bit in the field during his years fleeing his own demons. He numbed Loki's hands with some Novocain, then set the bones he knew were broken (just from looking, he could tell which ones Loki had broken by how crooked his usually straight fingers were).

"You ought to get those ex-rayed," Bruce quietly said when he was done. "Though, I think I got them all just by sight and feel."

"Thank you," Loki said so quietly Bruce was unsure he'd heard it till he looked up and met the god's eyes.

"You're welcome. Just be mindful that you've still got your non-mortal strength," Bruce commented, wrapping the last finger in a spilt. "Do you heal like, uh, Thor?"

"I…I…I do not know," Loki admitted. "I've not been hurt whilst…"

He made a motion to himself, which looked comical with his splinted fingers.

Bruce nodded. "Well, then, it might be a few days. Or hours till you can take those off."

"They no longer hurt."

"I drugged you against pain. I don't know how long it'll last because, well, you're, uh…"

"Not human. I know."

Bruce swallowed thickly. "I just…well, pain meds don't do much for me because of the Other Guy, nor do they do much for Steve because of the serum. Steve also heals fast, as do I."

"We will see," Loki replied. "If I was truly Asgardian, I wouldn't worry. As it is, I am not aware of the healing rates of Frost Giants."

"Do they have magic?"

"I do not know," Loki admitted. "I don't believe they do, as if they did why would they be living as they are?"

Bruce wasn't aware how Frost Giants lived on Frost Giant World, so he did not respond other than to stare at Loki, hoping he'd explain but knowing full well he'd have to drag anything about Frost Giant World out of Loki with tweezers.

"You have to reconcile the darkness," Bruce said. Loki snapped his attention to Bruce, who shifted uneasily under the unearthly green gaze. "I never really got the hang of it. I fear the Other Guy, which makes me angry. We don't get along. I can feel him lurking, but since…"

Loki sat up straight (well, straighter). "You found people who accept you for who you are: the Other Guy and all."

Bruce nodded.

"It's still hard, but…"

Bruce chuckled uncomfortably, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

"I should be seeing a shrink," Bruce muttered. "Then again, I think we all need one."

Bruce removed his hand when he heard the flick of cardboard near his face. He focused on the white rectangle. It was a business card. He looked questioningly at Loki, partly why the card was in his face, partly because how the hell did he get that out of his pocket with broken fingers.

"I thought you said it didn't help," Bruce commented, seeing a name of a doctor on the card Loki was holding between two splinted fingers.

"I thought it was doing nothing," Loki replied. "I thought I was making no progress."

"You are?"

"I feel, Bruce," Loki replied, using his free hand to thump his chest. "I feel…things so intensely it makes me…a little mad. I have always been intense, even as a child. When I learned one was not supposed to…I was not Thor."

Bruce had a feeling the excuse _I was not Thor_ was used quite often in Loki's mind for reasons why he wound up as he was.

"Thor was all good, light hearted feelings as a child. He had a temper, but it was short lived. I tempered him with being cool, collected and calm. He shined in his light, while I hid my darkness. But, it was always there. When I became two separate beings, the calm one fell to Other Earth and everything else that had recently broken to the surface that I'd hidden for too long went elsewhere."

Bruce nodded, taking the extended business card.

"After I put myself together, I ceased feeling anything. I was apathetic till I was snapped out of it when I realized Jessica and Steven were in danger," Loki said, looking away. "Since then…it's been an ongoing battle between the two. I can usually hide…"

"You hide the crazy from everyone," Bruce realized. He felt something tighten in his chest.

Bruce had assumed if Loki was going to go to someone and bear his soul, his heart, and troubles it would have been Jess or Steve. Or even Clint. Out of all of them, those three were the people Loki gravitated towards. Bruce, at some point, had lost whatever he'd started out with when he'd first met Loki. Jess would always come first as she'd been the first person (other than Thor) to take Loki at face value (not that Loki admitted Thor took him at face value). Bruce didn't comprehend Clint at all, but Steve was easy to understand. Anyone could see the two were bonkers for one another.

Bruce told himself he wasn't hurt, told himself he didn't mind, and that Tony was by far all the friend he needed.

He was wrong.

While Tony was great, Loki was the perfect mixture of brains, arrogance, mischief, and seriousness that Bruce could ask for in a friend. (There was the bonus the Other Guy seemed to like Loki above all others as well.) Loki was clever and able to talk science on a level that most people (even people in his own field) were unable to do. (Hence why Tony also liked Loki. The pair could talk circles around each other for hours.) (Sometimes Bruce didn't think they were actually speaking about science or even in English.)

"I must hide the madness. It's tiring," Loki confessed. "I learned to control the tick I get when I speak of….my family. I force myself to call Odin 'father.' I try not to wince and strike out against Thor, and yet I still want to wring his neck. I've spoken of these things in my sessions with the doctor, but…"

"You want it to go away," Bruce muttered. "And it's not going anywhere."

"I must live with it, learn to cope and temper it," Loki sighed, rolling his head on his neck. "So, I asked how you did it as you're living with a being within you that can take physical appearance. There is literally another being within you. You are two separate people."

Bruce stared at Loki, his mouth opening a little.

"I wanted to know how you dealt with it," Loki said, looking sadly at Bruce. "I've…even before I was really aware of my own situation, I identified with you."

Bruce felt shocked and blinked dumbly at the god— a freaking real Norse God who'd had access to magic, who had lived for thousands of years identified with him, Bruce Banner.

"I saw…myself," Loki admitted. "You turn green, I turn blue."

"You stay who you are when blue," Bruce pointed out. "I get lost."

"I know. It's not…perfect, but…now…it's more than letting the Jotun side out. I can turn blue all I want and still remain how I am at the moment. And yet, while I sit here with pale skin, dark hair and green eyes, there is another being itching to get out and put you in your place."

Loki's jaw clenched and he balled his fists. His eyes were still down cast, but Bruce had a feeling Crazy Loki was dancing again.

"I'm so tired," Loki sighed, loosing his rigid posture and collapsing backwards in the chair. "The only time my mind isn't whirling…the only time I'm at peace is when I'm at home."

Bruce didn't need Loki to clarify what "home" was to Loki. It wasn't Asgard, it wasn't the apartment he'd recently moved into. It wasn't even Steve's apartment. Loki's home was wherever the hell Steve was.

"Then you should be home as often as you can, since you've got one," Bruce said quietly. Loki cocked his head to the side. "I'm not suggesting you glue yourself to Steve, but spend as much time as you can with him if he calms the crazy. And…well, uh, give yourself time. You've only been here for three weeks, right?"

"Five," Loki corrected. "I know you are right, but…"

"You're not patient?"

Loki shook his head, staring at his hands. "I usually am, but…I want to be better and I want to rest."

"Maybe you need to let the crazy out?"

"I did that once, Bruce," Loki quietly said, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. "And look where it got me? I let it over take me in my…in the upheaval of learning what I truly am, I allowed the…crazy out. I was consumed."

Bruce frowned.

"Punch something."

"Pardon?" Loki asked, looking at Bruce as if he were speaking Greek (or something Loki didn't comprehend. Loki like spoke Greek).

Bruce stood up. "Yeah. Punch something."

"Bruce, that sounds like Thor's answer to a problem," Loki drawled sardonically. "And how will I punch with broken fingers?"

"Kick something," Bruce suggested. "Come on."

* * *

_And I could hear the thunder and see the lighting crack / All around the world was waking, I never could go back_

_-Florence & the Machine, "Blinding" _

* * *

Three hours later, Loki had managed to destroy more punching bags than Steve could decimate when he was in a mood. Bruce stood staring at the mess Loki had made and glanced at the taller man before clearing his throat.

"Better?"

"I am tired," Loki admitted, staring at his fingers and wincing as he tried to flex them within the braces on his fingers holding his broken bones straight. "But, more so physically than mentally. And I do…I don't feel the need to wring anyone's neck. And…"

"You don't smell crazy," popped out of Bruce's mouth before he could stop it.

He looked horrified as Loki smirked at him. "Thank you, Bruce. I'm glad I no longer reek of madness."

Bruce shifted on his feet, watching as the man crossed the room and sunk down on a bench along the mirrored wall. He picked up a bottle of water and downed the entire thing. Once again, Bruce was amazed he was still using his hands when his fingers were broken and likely hurt.

"You shouldn't be using those hands," Bruce quietly reminded Loki.

"I forget."

"What are you going to tell Steve?" Bruce asked.

"The truth," Loki replied. "Your people might believe me to be the god of lies, but I find the truth usually works better than a fib."

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? Then how did you get the nickname Silver Tongue?"

Loki smirked, standing up smoothly. "I spin words well. I do not lie, simply weave words."

Bruce snorted. "Uh huh."

"See. No one believes me when I speak the truth," Loki sighed dramatically. "I, however, must be going. I've lingered longer than I'd planned. However, we must do this again."

"What? Me watching you kick punching bags for three hours?" Bruce dryly inquired.

Loki gave him a look. "No, Bruce. What do you Midgardians call it? Hang out?"

"Don't say that. It's wrong," Bruce insisted. "You want to hang out? With me?"

"Yes. While I did come to you because I wanted your views, I believe what you were working on when I interrupted you is worthy of my attention."

"How do…never mind," Bruce said, not wanting to know how Loki figured it out. Even without magic, the guy was better at spying then maybe Natasha and could hack circles around Tony if he was so inclined.

"Fine. We'll…hang out. Only we'll find a new word for it."

"Excellent," Loki said, smiling for the first time that afternoon.

Bruce stared. While Bruce was comfortable admitting Loki wasn't exactly ugly, he'd never had the demigod actually smile at him (that he'd seen). Bruce has witnessed him smile at Steve quite a few times. He'd seen a real smile grace the face once or twice at something Clint had said, but Bruce himself had never been rewarded with a full force smile from Loki.

No wonder Steve turned into a red, fumbling mess all the time.

"I'll call next time," Loki said, turning away and not commented on Bruce's silence. "And you might want to look at the results of your last experiment. I think the numbers are a little off and that was your problem."

Loki smirked, waved, and vanished out of the gym, leaving Bruce standing there dumbstruck.

That was how Tony found him a half hour later, standing in a gym filled with broken punching bags.

"What are you doing, Jolly?" Tony asked before he'd taken in the state of his gym. Upon seeing it, he asked, "What the hell did you do to my gym? Did you let the Big Guy out without me?"

Tony took a few more steps into the room, looking utterly baffled.

"Loki," was all Bruce said. "It was Loki."

"Loki did this?"

"Yeah, with his foot."

"He stepped on my stuff!" Tony raged. "He ruin my stuff by stepping on it! What the heck?! And how the hell did he ruin the bags? I thought his magic was turned off! I made those to withstand Steve!"

"Uh, Loki's still rather strong without his magic," Bruce said, tearing his eyes off the ruined punching bags to meet Tony's gaze. "And did you test them on Thor?"

"But, he's not Thor!"

"I know, but…well, he's still not of this world. So, he's likely a little stronger than Steve, if I had to guess."

Tony stared at Bruce for a moment before he decided that made sense. He gazed around the room again, then childishly stomped his foot.

"Why is it always my stuff?"

* * *

_Don't run, stop holding your tongue / Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live / Maybe one of these days you can let the light in_

_-Sara Bareilles, "Brave" _


	7. Corps of Discovery

_A/N: I was just going to leave Jess up in Anchorage to go about her life happily and make an appearance when Loki needed his best friend, but this popped into my head and, well, I decided to go with it. I've only actually seen the movie I took this character from ONCE, and like Jess, I didn't pay attention. I was making jewelry, so my attention was divided. However, I'm a sucker for time travel stories and read one with this guy that was never finished, so the idea planted itself and wanted out. _

* * *

**_Corps of Discovery_**

* * *

_Tho' the road between us stretches many a weary mile / I forgot that you're not with me yet /When I think I see you smile_

_-George W Ballard, "There's a Long, Long Trail"_

* * *

The sounds of battle abruptly ended, replaced with eery quiet. All he could do was stare at the German machine gun. Fright coursed through him to the point he was no longer aware of anything passed what his eyes were processing in front of him.

He didn't even feel the first bullet hit him, nor the second. He was unsure when he became aware of the pain that snapped him out of his torpor. His grip tightened on the reins for a moment till another bullet ripped through him and he lost feeling in his arm holding the reins, the force making him jerk backwards, his sword flying out of his other hand. The noises of the machine guns filled his ears as he fell.

The fall took forever.

When he finally hit the ground, blackness overtook. He embraced it to escape the pain, fright, and loneliness that was dying on the battlefield at twenty-seven.

He lingered between the living and death, the passage of time losing meaning. The noises of battle faded out and were replaced by the quiet noise of nature. In the back of his mind, he figured it he was delirious, hence why he heard the patter of rain and the rustle of tree branches. He was sure the wetness on his face were his tears of agony rather rain drops slashing down from the heavens. It wasn't until he pressed his face to the ground did he realize something was wrong.

The ground was hard, frozen, and muddy.

The ground should be dry, warm and dusty.

He took a ragged breath and dared to open his eyes.

He was no longer on the battlefield in rural France.

He sucked in a labored breath (breathing hurt, then again, everything hurt). The bite ice, rotting wood, evergreens, and damp filled his noise.

He was alone, in a forest at the cusp of spring.

If he could, he would have laughed boisterously.

_You're was hallucinating yourself to a rather nice forest instead of a bloody battlefield, old chap_, he thought as his eyes took in the bare, rain soaked trees, and the large rocks protruding out of mounds of snow. Closing his eyes he listened to the tree branches sway, the rain bounce off the trees, cascade down the large boulders, and plunk on the half frozen mounds of snow. He was positive he would die alone in the strange, peaceful forest till he heard crunching snow— the kind that came from footfalls. Every muscle tensed, sending waves of pain that almost caused him to succumb to the dark again.

"OMG."

Was that some sort of weird German code?

If it was, he must remember it.

_OMG. OMG. OMG,_ he repeated like a litany.

"What?" came a male American voice.

American? Weren't they staying out of this mess?

"There is a body over there," said the first voice.

Female. Also American.

The loud noise of someone moving through the brush sounded off to his left. Part of him wanted to move to hide himself, yet a larger part of him wanted to be found and taken away from the chilly, rain soaked forest he'd dreamed himself into. He opened his eyes as the noise crashed closer and was greeted by an odd sight: a women, if he was taking her soft facial features incorrectly, dressed in scandalous fashion and looking like a drowned animal.

"Oh-my-god. It's Tom Hiddleson."

And with that strange declaration, Captain James Edward Nicholls allowed the dark to take him away from the strange, delirium wrought reverie.

* * *

_The countless white crosses in mute witness stand / To man's blind indifference to his fellow man / And a whole generation were butchered and damned_

_-Eric Bogle, "The Green Fields of France" _

* * *

"What are you talking about?" Clint asked, trying to catch up to Witton.

Since her debacle with magic, Extremis, and a golden apple, Witton moved faster than Clint. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew he was getting old. He was in top physical condition for his age bracket, but he couldn't keep up when Witton (the half-mortal doped up on God Apples and Extremis) set her mind to something. (And ignored the fact she still had two left feet.)

Hiking had been his idea. Now, he was regretting it. Early May wasn't the best month to visit the Last Frontier, but it was what Clint could manage. It'd rained every single, damn day since he'd landed. He had no idea what the mountains Steve had waxed on about looked like as they were always draped in low clouds or rolling fog.

And now he was traipsing after Witton (who went OFF the trail) through some sort of death trap of rain slicked fallen tree branches, dead leaves, and ice.

Lesson of the day: Just because it's a popular tourist trail, doesn't mean it won't be covered with ice and slush in May. It was clear the trail had been somewhat maintained through the winter (meaning people used it and beat a path through the snow), but the melting and refreezing had done a number on trail making it sketchy.

Clint was amazed Witton was still on her feet.

As Clint almost lost his footing, he added another lesson: just because it's sort of nice in Anchorage (meaning it wasn't pouring rain) doesn't mean if you leave the city limits (or just drive ten minutes in any direction) the weather will be the same.

It was freezing in Girdwood. And pouring rain. Or sleeting. Or snowing. Clint wasn't sure what it was doing. He was a popsicle.

"Clint!" Witton wailed. "I'm serious! It's Tom Hiddleston! It has to be!"

"He doesn't exist here," Clint reminded her, finally reaching where Witton had stopped and was bouncing on her heels. Opening his mouth to say comment on her crazy head seeing nonexistent movie stars in Girdwood, Alaska, nothing came out as he spotted the body on the ground.

It was a tall, lanky guy dressed in some sort of period costume. At first glance, Clint thought the guy was Loki, but the longer Clint looked, the more the guy looked less like Loki. Even in his passed out state and with only one side of his face showing, the guy's face was too full of life and too innocent to be mistaken for the rather jaded Loki. His wet hair was blond and curly— if the way it was curling in the damp was any indication. Clint's eyes trailed down the guy's body, which was more filled out than Loki could dream of being. While Loki was strong, he was a wiry kind of guy. As his eyes trailed down the guy, he noticed a hat. Clint picked it up and turned it over in his hands, examining the bullet hole shot through the top. He recognized the insignia on the hat. Shaking his head, he looked back at the guy to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Is that blood?" Clint asked, finally noticing the deep red staining the guy's back.

Witton screamed, falling backwards. Clint reached for her, but by the time he turned to get her to her feet, she was scrambling on her hands and knees towards the Loki look-alike, mindless of the mud and ice.

"OMG. OMG," she whispered over and over. "It's not Hiddles."

She frantically began to go through her backpack trying to find something to staunch the blood flow coming from what appeared to be machine gun fire that littered the guy's upper body. Clint's mind flipped over to damage control, and he got the first aid kit out of his own bag, and gently pushed Witton aside and began to tend to the guy.

The guy was riddled with bullet holes, many having gone clear through him. Or he'd been shot in the back. Clint did not want to cut the guy's clothes up, but he needed to stop the bleeding. He watched the guy's fluttering pulse in his neck before deciding he had to flip him over. There was no way a medical chopper would get here in time if Clint didn't do something.

"Witton, breathe. Hold it together. I need you to help me roll him over without moving him too much," Clint said, using the emotionless tone he used while working.

Witton sucked in a deep breath, looked very pale, but helped Clint roll the man onto the clean extra coat Clint had had in his backpack. After he was on his back, Clint began to unbuckle him from his coat. He made mental notes of all the other decorations the man wore on his uniform and had a strange sinking in his chest they weren't dealing with a guy who'd just dressed up in the crazy uniform for fun.

Clint knew his stuff when it came to military uniforms. And, as it happened, he'd been utterly obsessed with World War I as a kid, so he felt comfortable in stating it was a solid fact this kid was an officer (captain) in the British Calvary, circa 1913 or more likely 1914 since he was shot up to high hell and looked as if he'd road head first into machine gun fire. How he managed not to get shot in the head was a miracle.

"Now what?" Witton asked.

"Call Phil."

"What? Why can't I call 911?"

"Call Phil. Use the phone in the inside pocket of my coat. Tell him it's a code four green. Maybe a five yellow. I don't think we've got a code for time traveling. We should."

Witton reached into his pocket while Clint worked on the guy on autopilot and withdrew the emergency satellite phone. Clint didn't pay attention as she dialed the number for Phil, as he was concentrating on trying to stop the guy from bleeding out on him.

Witton managed to keep her cool till she got off the phone. The moment she stopped talking, Clint managed to get to the wound that was gushing the most blood and put pressure on it. This cause the guy to suddenly wake up. He let out a blood curdling scream, then promptly passed out again.

A solid thump from behind told Clint Witton was out for the count as well.

* * *

_Now don't be afraid / Come and join the parade / For the ultimate in sacrifice / It's an old-fashion story of hope and glory_

_-Johnny Hates Jazz, "I Don't Want to be a Hero" _

* * *

Phil Coulson had seen a lot of weird and amazing things in his days. He'd seen Captain America awake from a seventy year ice sleep. He'd witness real life actual gods walk the Earth. Hell, he'd seen the rise and fall of Tony Stark.

A few times.

And yet, this was the most bizarre thing to date.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," Clint insisted. "Remember? I know my wars. This guy is outfitted for World War I. Those wounds weren't made by anything anyone uses now, but an old school machine gun. I know my wounds. Ain't nothing around today that could have done it. Plus, the bullets they dug out of him, well, the ones still there that didn't rip right through him, they were antiques, only lacking the usual age you see in antiques."

Phil eyed the archer, who rolled his eyes.

"Look at the uniform," Clint said, throwing the bag with the remains of the bloodied military uniform across the hospital bed in the private room at the military hospital in Anchorage where the man had been airlifted twenty-four hours prior. "It's the real thing— or he's one hell of a re-enactor."

Phil eyed the pale, unconscious man in the bed. He was young, so incredibly young. Unlike the man he so closely resembled in some ways, the guy had blond hair that defiantly was an out of control curly mess naturally. His face was innocent as he slept, something Phil knew Loki didn't achieve in that state. The finely carved features of the young man's face were similar to Loki's in that they made him look vaguely aristocratic, yet the man on the bed was missing the regal air Loki was unable to shed no matter how hard he tried.

Someone behind Phil cleared his throat. Phil looked over his shoulder to see Loki standing in the doorway to the room, a nurse hovering over his shoulder looking a combination of baffled and indignant.

"Mr Laufey-Odinson, a pleasure to see you again," Phil greeted, extending his hand for Loki to shake. "Did Director Fury send you on my heels?"

Loki nodded moving to shake Phil's hand while his green eyes were on the bed containing the man who now looked less like Loki in the presence of the man than he had before. Adding to the pair's glaring difference was the fact their coloring was night and day. They also looked at different ends of the age spectrum. Loki was older than some dirt, he didn't look a day over thirty, and yet comparing him to the unconscious solider, Loki looked like an old man.

"He's with you?" a nurse asked unhappily.

Internally Phil cursed the fact SHIELD medical in Anchorage was unable to handle a case like the solider's so they'd had to go to the military hospital. It was better than a public one. Less likely for the Strange Case of Captain Nicholls to become public knowledge.

"Yes, ma'am. He is with us. Thank you for showing him the room," Phil said, giving the nurse a look to leave them be.

Loki scoffed loudly. The nurse looked like she really did not want to know and shut the door quietly to single her exit. Loki bent over at the waist till his noise was inches from the young solider on the hospital bed, pale and sickly in appearance, yet not as pale as Loki in his healthy state.

"This is just too weird," Clint mumbled, collapsing into a chair.

"He is not Hiddleston," Loki declared. "He is another…film character I believe. If you have this film here."

"What film?" Phil asked before Clint could announce they already knew the guy's name and that he was likely from another dimension.

"_War Horse_," Loki replied.

"It's not a film here. It's a theater production," Phil supplied, frowning.

"Ah," Loki breathed, straightening up. "He resembles Hiddleston very strongly, yet there are discrepancies as there are between Hiddleston and myself. Hiddleston was in a film called _War Horse_ where he played a World War I soldier who had a horse. Why would it not be reality in some other dimension if we all only exist in comic books in another?"

Phil had to agree with that statement. He smirked and asked, "So, what's his name?"

Loki had an incredible memory, yet something told Phil the guy hadn't bothered to remember the character's name.

"Did he not have identification papers or something on him? Don't your warriors carry something to identify them if they fall in battle?"

"ID tag says Nicholls," Clint said, tossing a plastic bag to Loki that contained the aluminum disk that had been tied with a bit of cord around the solider's neck, as well an ID tag he had around his wrist.

Loki deftly snatched the bag out of the air and looked at the stamped disks. "Do you not know what the rest of this means?"

"It's his solider number, regiment and his religion," Phil responded. "And he's not in any records books, nor did he exist as far as we can tell. So we only know his name is James Edward Nicholls, he's a captain, a member of the North Somerset Yeomanry, he's twenty-seven, and was born on March 16, 1887. Oh, and he's six foot two and weights about 175."

"You got that out of his tags?" Loki inquired.

"I'm a military buff," Clint offered. "I also found his papers."

Phil produced the bag with the brand new, yet old fashion ID papers. Loki took the bag from Phil and studied the contents, a look of bafflement on his face.

"It was a shame they had to cut him out of so much of that uniform. I managed to save the coat and his hat is a bit wet and has a hole ripped through it, but I can patch that up," Clint babbled.

Loki hummed absently, handing the bag to Phil.

"You went to Girdwood before coming here, correct?" Phil asked, setting the bag on the bedside table.

"I was charged with figuring out how this mysterious person arrived. Unfortunately, I do not have access to my magic, so I was unable to really tell anything from the site you obtained Captain Nicholls."

"So you didn't see or feel anything?"

Loki shook his head.

"Should we be worried?"

"No."

"How are we to get him back?"

"Hiddleston's character died," Loki stated flatly. "Or at least that was what I assumed happened when the horse showed up without him."

"You didn't watch the whole movie, did you?"

Everyone turned to see Jessica Witton in the doorway, a rather large bandage on the side of her head.

Loki's whole demeanor changed at seeing Jessica harmed. He closed the distance between them and put his hand on her head, right near the bandage.

"What happened?"

"Oh, you know: the fact I've got two left feet. I fell. Actually, okay, I fainted due to the fact Not Tom was covered in blood and it finally registered in my head he was bleeding and it was gross."

Jessica made a face, closing her eyes.

"I've got stitches. No concussion. Just fainted and whacked my head in true Jess fashion. Lack of control of my limbs while awake…think of what happen if I blacked out on my feet," she laughed uncomfortably.

Loki frowned. "You should be healed by now."

"It itches like hell, so I more than likely am."

Loki ripped the bandage off, muttering under his breath.

"See, I'm fine," Jess said batting Loki away from her. Phil caught a glimpse of healed forehead around the area the dissolvable stitches had yesterday. "So, how's the war dude?"

"What was Hiddleston's character's name in _War Horse_?" Loki demanded, stepping back from Jess.

"Er…Cumberbatch was in that movie."

Loki sighed deeply.

"What was his name?"

"I don't remember. He was in the movie for like fifteen minutes and they all has similar sounding names. All I remembered was Cumberbatch had a mustache and was higher ranked than HIddleston's character."

A sheepish expression painted her face as she took the seat next to the bed. Loki sighed deeply. Jess stared at the guy on the bed.

"He looks different."

"Of course. He's clean," Clint attempted to joke.

"No. From what I remember. But, then again, I watched that movie before I was really aware of who Hiddles was. I never saw it again, as it was kind of…well, boring. And then it made me cry."

"It was so boring it made you cry?" Clint asked, fiddling with his phone.

"No. It was so touching it made me cry. I like paid attention at the start, then the fifteen minutes Cumberbatch was onscreen, then got bored, then at the end I cried my eyes out," Jessica reported.

Loki frowned.

"Ah! Hah!" Clint waved his cell phone around. "I looked up _War Horse_ characters. And Cumberbatch played one of the characters named Captain Charles Stewart. There was indeed a James Nicholls in this play, but he was a LT."

Clint scowled.

"They made the movie here and changed his rank? I thought they didn't make any Hiddleston movies because he's not here," Jess said, frowning. "Wait, I swear to god they both had the same first name in the movie, hence my total confusion."

Clint shook his head. "I dunno. Says Charles Stewart and per Wiki, Cumberbatch played him on stage. He was in the stage production in London. It's only a play here."

"Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense. I mean, almost everything else is the same. It was a Broadway play before it was a movie and a book before it was a play," Jessica said, looking back at the guy. "He's prettier in person, damn it. What the hell gives? Steve is prettier in person! This dude is prettier in person! The only person who isn't prettier is Thor! He looks the same!"

Loki snickered while Clint looked affronted.

"I am not pretty."

"What?" Jessica asked, looking at him. "Of course you're pretty. Everyone is pretty!"

"I think she hit her head a little harder than we first thought," Clint grumped, crossing his arms. "If any of you ever tell anyone she thinks I'm pretty, I'm putting an arrow through your eyes."

Phil rolled his eyes while Loki held up his hands in defeat while wearing a smirk.

* * *

_Someone send a runner for the feeling that I lost today / Someone send a runner through the weather that I'm under for the feeling that I lost today_

_-The National, "England" _

* * *

The first thing Jim was aware of when the darkness receded was a strange noise.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

As he listened to the noise and became more alert, he realized the noise was in time with his beating heart. His eyes slowly opened, but quickly closed them at the influx of bright, white light.

"Come on, you can do this," said a soft, gentle voice to his right. "You're almost there."

Where _there_ was, Jim wasn't sure, but he attempted to open his eyes again. He couldn't move easily, but managed to turn his gaze to the right to see who'd spoken. He was alarmed to find a woman with bright violet hair smiling at him. He regarded her for a moment, feeling his distress grow the longer he looked at her. She looked vaguely familiar, like he'd seen her face somewhere, but she also looked rather unfamiliar.

"It's okay," she assured, biting her lower lip. She looked a bit unsure, but then made up her mind. She put raised her hand slowly and placed it on his forearm, which rested above the white sheets. "I know it's scary to wake up in a strange place and not know a soul. Been there, done that."

Jim stared at her, looking passed the strange hair and into her odd eyes. They were green color he'd never seen before and that only made his panic rise.

"Don't try to talk— uh, you're tubed. I bet they'll be taking it out soon, since you're awake and you're breathing on your own."

Tubed?

"The drugs likely are keeping you from being fully aware. Now, the nurse told me if you woke up, to call her, so I'll do that. Oh, and if you need her, I'll put the button in your hand, okay?"

He blinked.

That seemed to be a good enough answer for the woman, as she clicked something, then gently unclenched his hand from the sheets (when had he done that) and put something hard and slim into his hand.

"Hit any button on it and someone ought to show up in no time."

"Ah, he's awake! Good!" cried another voice.

American. They were both Americans.

"See, told you," the woman said, backing up.

How'd he wound up in an American hospital was a mystery…though, they could be American volunteers through the Red Cross. The Red Cross had women in their ranks and wasn't going to hurt him. Nor were Americans, even if they weren't with the Red Cross. They weren't the enemy, they were just…minding their own business on the other side of the world. Politics and all that footle.

He told himself all this to ease the growing agitation in his chest. He recognized next to nothing of his surroundings. Everything looked…alien. Americans, while different, were not THAT dissimilar. If Americans were this much more…advanced and alien than the rest of the world, wouldn't they be the ones making a bid for domination?

And why was there a tube down this throat? Now that he knew about it, he could feel it and he felt like he was choking.

How did they get a tube down this throat? What sort of fresh hell was this?

"Calm down, honey," the nurse…or at least he thought she was a nurse. She was wearing very barmy clothing. Was she wearing trousers? And what was that pattern supposed to be? He could see she had some sort of military rank, which calmed him and scared him at the same time. He couldn't figure out what her rank exactly was, as she wasn't wearing anything familiar— and wait, since when did women serve in the military? And did that tag say U.S. Air Force?

"I think he's realizing he's woken up in the twilight zone," the other woman offered, backing up further as the nurse nodded and grabbed some sort of tube that was connected to his arm. She used a needle of some sort and injected liquid into the tube.

"He should calm down now," Solider Nurse said.

"He'll zonk out?"

"No. I'd like the doctor to take the tube out," the nurse said. "I will be back. Try not to upset him."

"Who? _Moi_?"

Solider Nurse gave Purple Hair a look and quickly exited the room.

"Okay, so you were kind of dying when I found you in the woods. You're in America, but not any America you're familiar with, which judging by your eyes you've figured out. You're in Anchorage, Alaska," the woman explained, carefully looking at him.

The longer she looked at him, the more bizarre things he discovered. She had orange tinted skin and quite a few bobbles in her ears. And she was wearing really obscene clothing. She wore no trousers like the nurse, but just what appeared to be hose and a tiny bit of strange fabric that covered her…lower…

And Anchorage, Alaska? Where was that? America, clearly, but where? He didn't know all the states of the union, but Alaska didn't sound familiar at all.

"I'm Jess. Or Jessica. Loki calls me Jessica. Clint always calls me Witton. Phil usually calls me Ms Witton. Anyways, most people just call me Jess."

Jim blinked, questions swimming in his mind that he hoped his eyes were asking.

A warm hand lightly fell on his arm.

"You were shot up by machine gun fire. Do you remember that?" Jim nodded, as tragically, he did remember that. While scary and unpleasant, that was the last moment of his life that made sense. "I'm assuming it was from the Germans." Jim nodded again, feeling a little light headed suddenly. "Why are they always the bad guys? Or the Russians. Though, recently, the British have been playing the bad guys for some reason."

Jim felt his eyes go wide.

"I don't mean in reality. Your country is still friends with us and…well, I don't know. Things have changed a lot. And not just because you're in a parallel universe."

Jim desperately wished he could speak, but he realized quite quickly his brain was a jumbled mess and he had no idea what he'd say if he could speak.

* * *

_All is ready, so just hold steady / We'll soon be going to the pier / No more waiting or hesitating / The time to sail is here_

_-Irving Berlin, "We're On Our Way to France"_

* * *

"He's convinced he's hallucinating," Witton said flatly a few days after Captain James Edward Nicholls had blinked his baby blues open to greet the world.

"An elaborate hallucination he's dreamed up," Clint grumbled, flicking his finger over the screen of his Stark Pad. "Even after you dyed your hair a normal shade just for him."

Clint had noticed how freaked Nicholls was each time he caught a glimpse of Witton's purple hair. Whatever drugs he was on kept him from a full out panic, but his eyes went large each time he noticed Witton had purple hair and he looked uncomfortable.

Witton scowled. "I did not do this for him. I wanted to change my hair. It's what I do."

Clint raised an eyebrow, raking his eyes over her now almost normal looking dark hair. It was dark brown, but when the sun hit it, there were hints at its former purple glory.

"Tell yourself that, Witton," Clint said, looking back at the Stark Pad. He was attempting to learn all he could about the Edwardian period. So far, all he'd done was watch _Downtown Abbey_ and read the history of England during that period of time on Wikipedia. "You can tell me, Witton."

"Tell you what?"

Clint glanced up to find her looking honestly confused. "Or maybe you might want to just admit you got a thing for World War I in there."

Jessica looked affronted. "I do not have a thing for him! He's traumatized."

"So? You think he's pretty."

"I think you're pretty."

"No, no you don't," Clint said, looking back at the Stark Pad. He called up the book he'd downloaded called _All Quiet on the Western Front_. He had a vague notion it was read by kids in high school. He sure as hell didn't read it, but then again, he hardly went to school. "You can't have Steve because Loki staked a claim on the guy within five-seconds of meeting him, so why not settled for another blue-eyed, pretty blond boy?"

Witton made a noise, crossing her legs and arms tightly as if to protect herself from Clint's observations.

"I even think he's kind of pretty," Clint went on. "And who else is gonna look out for him? He sure isn't worth SHEILD's time. He's not threatening to take over the world, he's not an all powerful alien, nor is he even a highly trained solider. He's a guy from the calvary in a period of time when his training was going out of style. So, where else is Jim Boy going to go if not with you?"

Clint looked up to find Witton was brick red.

"And you gotta remember, he's shell shocked. Likely in more ways than one," Clint reminded her. "So, it was rather kind of you to tone down your hair to get him to like you more."

Witton threw a magazine at Clint and stomped out of the waiting room. He listened to her go down the hall towards Nicholls' room. He smirked to himself.

* * *

_How could you send us so far away from home / When you know damn well that this is wrong_

_-Muse, "Soldier's Poem" _

* * *

Jim wasn't sure why he'd gone along with this plan of action other than he was tired of being in that odd…hospital. He'd done reconnoiter every waking moment and couldn't find anything that hinted at a German conspiracy or an easy way out that didn't require the aid of the strange party he found himself a member of.

Jim was hale and hearty after a month of recovery. He was almost giddy with relief when the doctors told him he was able to go home. Most men wounded on the front spent months recovery and here Jim was walking and ambling about after a few weeks and released after a month. Yes, he tried easily still, occasionally his wounds ached, and sometimes his foot didn't want to work right, but for the most part he was hearty. (He was assured with some physical therapy his foot would be fine and he ought not to worry.)

He wanted out of hospital and wasn't an idiot, so he'd smiled, laughed, and had spoken heartily to the uniformed officer who'd come to assess his state of mind.

Jim was positive his upbeat behavior was the reason he'd been released this morning and was now standing outside a very green building with a shockingly aubergine door after a harrowing ride in an auto from the military hospital.

"So, this is my house."

"Jessica."

"What?"

"I'm sure he knows this is your dwelling."

Jim eyed the other man accompanying him, who called himself Loki Laufey-Odinson. Jim had heard on more than one occasion people remarked the two looked like relations, but Jim was unable to see it. What he knew of Laufey-Odinson was he was not of this world, yet was from this reality. Jim's mind had yet to fully wrap around the terms they used here, but he understood he was a nonnative even if he was from Earth because this was not his Earth. They had no clue how to return him to his own Earth or his own time.

Jim was sure he'd been rattled off his onion by the fall off his horse.

His heart ached at the thought of what became of Joey. No one gave him a proper answer on the fate of the horse he had promised to return to young Albert. Jim got the feeling everyone around him knew, just didn't want to tell him.

"Are we going to stand outside all morning?" Laufey-Odinson drawled, looking at his watch in impatience.

It was like no watch Jim had seen before. Instead of residing in his pocket, it was strapped to his wrist with a black leather band. The face of the watch was large, circular and had about a million different little faces and hands within the larger one.

"Yes, Lo, we are. Just standing here in the driveway for all the neighbors to see!"

"Jessica, take the poor man into the house before he breaks down."

"Oh, bloody hell," the woman muttered, then with strength a woman should not have, dragged Jim into the house. Jim was in too much shock over her strength to put up a fuss or be embarrass to be hauled passed the aubergine door, which had been opened at some point by Laufey-Odinson.

"Here, talk to Steve."

Ms Witton's hand left his arm and she whirled out of the room. He gazed around the very yellow room before spotting a handsome gentlemen seated on the sofa. His hair was brushed out of his face in a similar fashion to how Jim had chosen to wear his hair. (Ms Witton had insisted he needed to update his hair in order to not look like a time traveler, which he had protested as he'd only recently finally gotten his hair to stay in the fashionable style without it curling all over the place out of control.)

"Er, hello," the man said, standing up and displaying he was plainly dressed.

And dreadfully American— more so than anyone Jim had met while in hospital. He was the spitting image of what Jim had always pictured when he imagined Americans.

"It's nice to finally meet you Captain Nicholls. You did a great honor for your country. Steve Rogers."

Another solider, someone who had seen fighting, who'd been on the battle fields. It was clear in his eyes as he extended his hand.

"Good morning. You may call me Jim, Mr Rogers," Jim greeted, trying to keep a mockery of his former self in his tone. He shook the hand and was pleased the man had a solid handshake— proof of good character.

"You can just call me Steve. Oh, and sorry about those two," the man apologized, dropping Jim's hand and motioning Jim ought to take a seat. "While Loki knows what it is like to be a fictional character, he's more adaptable to situations than most."

"Pardon?" Jim asked, eyeing the other man.

Rogers smiled softly and adjusted one of the wing backs so it was facing Jim. "It's a lot to adjust to— being here, in this time."

"You're from a different…dimension as well?"

Was everyone in this rag-tag group a foreigner to the planet?

Rogers laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "No. I'm from this Earth. Just not this time. I am about ninety years old, but I'm not a demigod like Loki."

"Demigod?"

Rogers made a face like he maybe ought not to have said that. "Well, yeah. Loki, Norse God of Mischief?"

"I've heard of him," Jim murmured, head swimming. While he knew Loki was…different and not exactly human, he hadn't realized he was the Loki of Norse mythology. Jim had thought Laufey-Odinson's parents had a horrid sense of humor. "Do other gods exist? Like the Roman and Greek ones?"

"Uh, not sure. The only ones we know are the Asgardians," Steve said, looking out of his depth. "Thor's Loki's brother…there's Frigga, and Odin. Uh…an quite a few others. I don't know who you've heard of."

"That's about all," Jim lied. He'd only really ever heard of Thor and Loki in passing whilst at school.

"Well, yeah, uh…I was a soldier during World War II."

Jim nodded, having read a brief historical review of Earth since his time. There had been the Great War, later World War I, and World War II— both spanning many countries and fighting taking place all over the world. There'd been something called a Cold War that didn't involve traditional warfare, but a sort Jim was unable to figure out. There always seemed to be war on somewhere.

"I was on an airplane that was going drop a bomb on New York. I couldn't let it happen, so I crashed it into a glacier, fully expecting to die."

"And yet, you did not, and appear young and virile," Jim observed.

Rogers chuckled, rubbing his neck again. "Yeah, uh, you could say that. I fell asleep."

"Pardon?"

"Well, I was injected with this serum that, uh, made me look like this." Rogers gestured to himself. "And I guess it helped keep me alive and in statis while I was…well, on ice. I was buried under the glacier, but those things move, so about a year ago, they unearthed the plane I was in and found me— fast asleep in the pilot's chair."

Jim stared wide eye at the man.

"What sort of world is this?" he whispered.

"Jess told me you think you still think you're in some sort…well, you don't think this is all real," Rogers said quietly.

Jim eyed the man warily, but said nothing. He did in fact think he was in some sort of nightmare. Jim hoped he was waiting to wake up in hospital or convalesce in England in 1914 soon. He had heard wild things were seen that weren't real when one was administered opium or morphine. He had hoped his weeks here on this Earth were just that: a hallucination.

He was fearing it was not so. This was too detailed to be anything other than real.

"You're not dreaming, Jim," Rogers quietly said. "I wanted it to be a dream as well. I wanted to go back to where I came from and finish what I started. I wanted to finish a fight that'd been over for seventy plus years."

Jim met the other's blue eyes with his own. There was something about the other man that forced Jim to be at ease, to feel comfortable. Since he'd awoken, he'd not trusted anyone. The man across from him was shining like the sunlight and Jim desperately wanted for the first time to trust and really understand his situation.

"How do you live being out of your own time?"

A small smile appeared on Rogers' face. "I found something to believe in."

The other man's eyes drifted over Jim's shoulder and his face lit up. Jim turned around to find Laufey-Odinson in the doorway, looking put out.

"Jessica is cooking. Please get in there and cease this dangerous activity."

"What?" Rogers asked, getting to his feet. "Why can't you stop her?"

Loki made an outraged face and stormed out of the room. Steve turned back to Jim. "Sorry. Uh, she might burn down the house."

"Go on," Jim encouraged. "I shall be fine on my own. I don't plan on moving."

"Oh, do you want me to show you to your room?" Rogers asked, watching Jim carefully. "Are you tried? Do you need to lie down?"

Jim smiled softly. "No, I believe I will remain here for a tick."

Rogers stared at him for a long beat, before hurrying off as there was a loud crash and scream somewhere in the back of the house. Jim slumped a little in his seat before taking a good look around the oddly bright room. His eyes fell on family portraits. They were all clearly Ms Witton's family. Jim felt a stab of jealousy at the sight of those portraits. His family did not exist here, as they were works of fiction that hadn't even merited being written about. Jamie was fictional, Joey was fabricated— hell, the entire world Jim knew wasn't fact but a fabrication of some man's imagination.

He was out of his own time and well as his own reality.

He had nothing.

* * *

_Lost in summer, morning, winter, travel very far / Lost in losing circumstances, that's just where you are_

_-Yes, "Yours is No Disgrace"_

* * *

"So, how is he?"

"I don't know. He's more communicative than I was when I first woke up," Steve said. "I just wish I could have been here sooner."

"You had a mission," Loki reminded him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Do not fret. I'm sure Jessica made sure he's spooked and damaged enough."

"I did not," the woman in question protested.

"Darling, you unload spiels of information on him each time you speak to him," Loki said, giving Jess a look of chiding.

Jess stuck out her tongue.

"I think I saved the salmon," Steve replied. "But, I don't know what you did the corn."

"She blew it up in the microwave," Loki drawled.

Jess huffed.

"I can cook," she insisted.

"You can hardly open a can of tuna," Loki pointed out.

Jess looked indignant and stomped over to the pantry, yanked the door open, and pulled out a can of tuna. Within a minute, it was open and under Loki's noise. Steve watched in amusement as Loki glared at Jess, honestly looking like an iriate cat.

"Here, kitty, kitty," Jess said in a sugar-sweet voice.

"I resent that."

"You love tuna from the can," Jess giggled. She put it in Loki's hand and skipped out of the kitchen, calling for Jim.

Steve winced, hoping the tired, young officer had taken a nap in the time it took Steve to save lunch.

"I doubt he fell asleep," Loki quietly said, opening a cabinet and taking out a plastic container to store the opened can of tuna within. "He's wound up too tightly to rest."

"Did the therapist really let him go?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "He charmed the pants off the officer."

"He did?"

Loki gave him another look. "He's extremely full of magnetism when he so wishes. I've felt he is actually a rather charming character under the hard shell he erected upon finding out his fortune."

"Why do you think he's here?"

Loki regarded Steve for a very long moment before looking in the direction of the living room, where Jess's cheery voice was attempting to ply Jim with tea.

"I can make tea," she insisted eagerly. "I've got a tea kettle and everything. It's not the awesome tornado siren one I had before, but it boils a mean pot of water. Silently. Without loud whistles. Clint was kind of sad, as I guess Loki told him about my tea kettle and his total hate for it."

"I'm not sure, but there is something off putting still lingering around him," Loki said as Jess went on babbling about her old tea kettle. "We'll have to introduce him to Thor for me to be sure of my theory."

Steve stared at Loki for a beat before asking, "Is this like when Thor thought Jess felt like his hammer?"

"No. I doubt James is imbued with magic, but I am unable to sense magic at the moment. Thor, even if he's a bumbling fool, can."

* * *

_We will run and scream / You will dance with me / We'll fulfill our dreams and we'll be free / We will be who we are and they'll heal our scars_

_-Mumford & Sons with Birdy, "Learn Me Right"_

* * *

"You are alive."

Jim became aware he was standing in a field— one that looked much like the one he charged across oh so long ago, heading head first into the breach and thinking they'd gotten the best of the Jerries— till he was scared out of his wits at the sight of the machine guns in the woods.

"What is this?" Jim asked, turning around to look at the speaker. He stumbled a few steps backwards. "Joey?"

The horse nodded, taking a few slow steps forward with his head bowed.

"Oh, Joey," Jim sighed, rushing forward to pet the horse. He stroked the white cross on his head for a moment. "What sort of dream is this?"

"One where I am able to speak to you," the horse said.

Jim thought for a moment, then laughed. "Oh, of course. What else would it be?"

"I wanted to make sure it worked," the horse said, lifting his head to look at Jim. Not for the first time, Jim felt Joey was looking through him and into his heart. "You are a good man. I was unable to let you die, so I willed you elsewhere."

Jim dropped his hands from the horse and blankly stared. Joey pawed the ground with his hoof, looking much like a scolded child.

"You willed me…you willed me to…"

Jim could not put into words his current situation.

"I willed you to live," Joey insisted, still pawing the ground and looking chastised.

Jim used his finger to lift the head up and looked into those brown eyes that showed such intelligence. Jim had assumed that Joey was simply a brilliant specimen of a horse, despite Albert's teary insistence Joey wouldn't do well in the calvary. After working with the horse before setting off for France, Jim fully understood the boy's attachment to the creature and why he'd do almost anything to keep him. Jim was loath to be parted from Joey upon completion of the war.

"Did you survive?" Jim inquired.

"Of course," Joey drawled in a familiar manner.

Jim cocked his head to the side, wondering why that drawl was so known, even if it wasn't in a British accent.

"You lack a British accent," Jim mused. "Why is that?"

"I am not British," the horse replied. "I hale from Asgard, though I've not been there since I was first born."

Jim dumbly stared at the horse, letting go of his stout. "Asgard?"

"You've heard of it?"

"That's…that's…where Laufey-Odinson hales," Jim realized, remembering finding a news story from almost a year prior that mentioned how Loki of Asgard tried to take the world. He found it hard to imagine Laufey-Odinson doing this, but how many people were alien and named Loki?

Clearly, Loki had had a change of heart (likely due to Rogers).

(Another reminded how much things had changed.)

"Laufey-Odinson?" Joey asked, sounding curious. "Does Loki happen to be his first name?"

"Yes."

"You've met Father?" the horse cried happily, jumping up a little.

"He's your father?" Jim asked, feeling confused and a little scared.

"Well, I guess he's my mother technically," Joey said. "Well, he was at one time."

"What has my life become?" Jim faintly asked, feeling baffled and letting his legs give out. He fell to the ground, landing with a thump on the dry grass, a cloud of dust raising around him. Once the dust settled, Joey nudged Jim with his nose till he looked up and met the insistent gaze of the strange horse.

"I'm sorry. I do not know where I willed you to live," Joey apologized. "My life story is long and complicated. The life I am leading right now is a good one, thank gods. Well, it was till I met the Germans. Now it is hard. I do not like them."

The horse shook his head and stomped the ground with his hooves to show his displeasure.

"Both I and Topthorn are well enough. Worked hard, but we are alive and together," Joey assured. He nudged Jim again with his nose. "Do not feel sad. I am very sorry I've done this to you, but I felt the life draining from you. Then you fell off and I was unaware where you'd gone. What happened after you fell?"

"I…I don't know," Jim said, finally reaching up and running his hand down Joey's snout gently. "I heard the noises of battle, then noises of nature. I'm not sure how much time passed when realized I was in a much colder, frozen smelling forest. Then I heard American voices and everything went black."

"I sent you to America," Joey said, sounding awed. "You shall be safe there."

"It's not an America any of our time know, Joey," Jim murmured. "It is in the future and another reality. I am a fictional character. Not even a familiar one, as in the reality I find myself within, I'm not even me."

Jim wasn't sure the horse would understand, but Joey cocked his head to the side a little and said, "Oh. Oops."

"Oops?"

"I didn't mean to send you to a mirror world. I shouldn't have been able to," Joey said, the frown evident in his tone.

"How are you talking to me? You're mouth isn't moving," Jim realized.

"I speak through minds. I cannot speak like you do, as I lack the vocal control."

"Oh."

"I am unable to travel through the passageways between realities or realms. Father and my mirror sister are able to do this," Joey explained. "She's…I don't know. She told me I was supposed to be an eight legged horse, not one that is simply reborn over and over on Midgard."

"Pardon?"

Joey shook his head, pacing away from Jim. "It is my father's punishment for doing as he did to cause my birth. In the world Hel is from, she said it happened just the same, only my mirror has got eight legs and lives on Asgard as the king's steed."

Joey pawed at the ground, sending dust everywhere.

"In reality, the All-Father cast me out, sending me to Midgard to live my life as a horse. See horse."

"Yes, I see that."

"Each time I die, I'm reborn. I am currently Joey. I retain my memories each reincarnation, so occasionally Father finds me. I haven't seen him the last few cycles, though."

Jim stared at the horse, who was prancing back and forth as if he were pacing in agitation.

"I am not familiar with Norse myths," Jim admitted.

"No matter. I don't understand, though, how I willed you to another reality," Joey said, sounding frustrated. "I am not magical. Father is magical, but I am a horse. I am smarter than average, sometimes more stubborn than average, and have a strong will. If I will things, they sometimes happen."

"You willed me to live?"

"Of course, Jim, you're kind and treated me well. The world needs more people like yourself."

JIm nodded, taking the sentiment to heart. "Besides willing me to live, what did you do?"

"That was all I did. I willed you to live while you were still on my back. Then you fell off. I was so scared. Those…what were they?"

"Machine guns," Jim said, shuddering at the memory.

"Aye. I dislike them," Joey said, huffing through his nose in distaste. "You should have gone to a hospital tent, or somewhere safe. Not a mirror world."

"I'm safe," Jim conceded.

Joey stopped pacing and faced Jim. He approached slowly and nudged Jim in the side of the head. "You feel guilty you have lived and the others were left to perish or be captured."

Jim put a grim smile on his face. "That's war, old man."

"Aye. War," Joey allowed. "Most horses do not understand war, but I've seen enough I can't say I understand fully, but it seems to be the way many solve problems."

Jim sighed. "Quite right. Politics never solves anything so let's send innocent young men out to shoot one another."

"Jim, don't be that way."

Jim sighed again, putting his face into his hands. "What are you doing? What are the Germans doing with you and Tophorn?"

"I drag things. Like Albert trained me," Joey announced, sounding proud of himself. "With Topthorn."

Jim smiled.

"I'm glad you two are together," Jim said, running his hand down Joey's snout.

"Me too."

"How, if I am on a mirror world, are you in this dream with me? Is it mine or yours?"

"I heard some people speaking after the battle concluded," Joey admitted. "Jamie was unable to find you. I willed myself to find you."

Jim stared. "Jamie lived?"

"Aye. He's gone now, though, Jim. I don't know what the Germans did with him, but they allowed him to go over the dead bodies and he didn't find you. I believe it distressed him greatly, but he refused to show it."

Jim nodded.

"For the bad guys, they are somewhat kind. Well, sometimes," Joey said, his eyes going dark at a memory of something. "I've been willing for a fortnight to be sure you're safe."

"How come you didn't will yourself to stay with Albert?"

Joey moved his head out from under Jim's hand. He stood tall and firm before Jim and said, "You needed me. I might not have magical powers, but I've been around enough to understand when I am needed. You had it written all over you when you and that loud man came looking for a horse. You needed a good horse, a strong horse. That is me."

Jim smiled, fully for the first time in a long time. "Oh, you are such a good boy."

Jim put his hands on either side of Joey's had and pressed his face into the snout, breathing in the familiar scent of Joey.

"Are you happy, Jim?"

"I will be. It was a shock to wake up in the future and on a world I don't exist, but now I know that it was a gift, I will treasure it and try to make the best of it," Jim promised.

Joey made a noise of agreement. "Good. I believe our time draws to a close. You are waking and I must put my mind into what I am doing. This is goodbye, Jim."

"Thank you, Joey."

"You are greatly welcome. Do not forget me."

"I do not believe I could."

* * *

_ Old remembrances are thronging thro' my memory / Till it seems the world is full of dreams_

_-George W Ballard, "There's a Long, Long Trail" _


	8. Make It Yours

_A/N: Oops. This was supposed to be posted before _Corps of Discovery_. Just kind of got excited for that one and forgot to post this. _

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it. **

* * *

**_Make It Yours_**

* * *

_I know you didn't bring me out here to drown / So why am I ten feet under and upside down _

_-Lifehouse, "Storm" _

* * *

Steve Rogers was iffy on a few things. A few of the things he was iffy on at the moment:

-Cell phones. If they were phones, why did they do the job of a music player, a camera, and a computer?

-The Internet. Where did the Internet start? Where did it end? Everything has to start and end, yet the Internet did neither.

- The Dodgers were in LA not Brooklyn. How did THAT even make sense?

-Loki had his own apartment.

Steve had been thrilled when Loki showed him the airy, spacious apartment located in a pre-war townhouse on the Upper East Side. (Well, _thrilled_ was the wrong word. Steve couldn't figure out why Loki was leaving Brooklyn other than he was kind of snob and where else would Loki head other than the Manhattan's Upper East Side? That was where old money resided, where the rich played, and lived. The apartment was right off Park Avenue for crying out loud.) Between the building and the apartment, it was a combination of old and new, sleek and classic. A perfect blend for Loki. The whole joint screamed LOKI as loud as the apartment Steve had in Brooklyn yelled STEVE.

Steve had said it was wonderful and Loki ought to sign the lease.

Loki agreed, went away with his real estate agent, and moved out of Steve's within twenty-four hours of having Steve look at the apartment.

Steve had spent that first night Loki was in his own apartment staring at the ceiling quite unhappy with the fact Loki was in a different burrow. (Or that was what he told himself was the problem.)

Climbing the stairs to the front door of the building, Steve felt as if everyone was staring at him and wondering what he was doing in this kind of neighborhood. He felt as if he was a sore thumb sneaking around all sorts of graceful, elegant fingers. Loki had told Steve to buzz when he arrived (Loki's building had a working buzzer, unlike Steve's). Letting himself into the tiny lobby, Steve stared at the rows of buzzers, his eyes focusing on one labeled Laufey-Odinson. He was about to press it when the door opened, bringing in the chilly late spring air.

"Ah!"

Steve startled, finding him nose to nose with Loki in small entry.

"Er, hi. I guess it's okay I didn't buzz," Steve said, moving over so Loki could unlock the door to the main building.

That was when he noticed something was wrong.

"Loki, what happened to your fingers?"

"Nothing," Loki snapped. He fumbled with the keys till he somehow managed to open the door. "They will be fine presently."

"Did you break them?"

Steve was horrified to think of Loki with broken bones. Yeah, he'd seen Loki after being Hulk Smashed into Stark's concrete floor out in California. And, yeah, after this Loki moved a little stiffly, but he was fine— mostly due to having access to his magic when he sustained the injuries.

"But you…you don't have magic," Steve whispered, as Loki held the door open with his foot while he somehow also opened up his mailbox.

"No, Steven, I do not," Loki laughed. The laugh sounded fake, forced, and more wrong than the fact all Loki's fingers were broken. Steve saw a moment later why he'd been acting weird, as a woman walked out of the open door Loki's foot was still holding open.

"Hi, Luke," the woman purred. "Oh, what did you do to your hands?"

Due to the fact the country associated the name _Loki_ with the maniacal being with an alien army, SHEILD insisted Loki operate under a different name when mixing with the locals.

Loki had gone along with it in so much as he changed his first name. He kept the mouthful of a last name. (No one knew Evil Loki's last name, as he'd always proclaimed he was Loki of Asgard, not Loki Laufey-Odinson, or whatever combination he might have used.)

"Good evening, Ashley," Loki greeted, bowing his head. "Had a small accident. Nothing to worry about."

Ashley looked as if she wished to linger and heap her concern for Loki, but then saw Steve and her eyes bugged out.

"You know Captain America?" she blurted out, looking back at Loki.

Steve sighed. Usually, if he wasn't sporting the uniform, no one bothered him.

"Do I?" Loki inquired, glancing over his shoulder at Steve. "I thought you said your name was Steven."

Mischief sparkled in those eyes before Loki turned his attention back to Ashley.

"Steve Rogers is Captain America, duh," Ashley laughed, flopping her golden hair over her shoulder. "Everyone knows that, Luke." She looked at Steve and jerked her thumb at Loki, and said, "He's so strange sometimes."

She was too tan and too blonde for either to be natural.

Steve shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

Loki and Ashley exchanged a few more pleasantries before Loki managed to get him and Steve out of the entry and upstairs to his apartment. Once they were inside, he cornered Loki in the kitchen and demanded, "What did you do to your fingers?"

Loki's face hardened and he looked away.

"Loki, please," Steve pleaded. "Are you hurt? Do you need to see a doctor?"

"A doctor set them," Loki allowed, keeping his back to Steve as he bustled around the kitchen. They were supposed to go out to dinner, but Steve had a feeling they'd be staying in as Loki gathered ingredients to make dinner. "Steven, what do you remember when you first met me?"

Steve blinked, rocking backwards a little. "What?"

Loki paused as he rifled through the pantry, glancing at Steve over his shoulder. "The first time you saw me in person."

Steve blushed. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. He'd gotten off the plane that had flown him and Coulson to the Hellicarrier. Steve was feeling uncomfortable from the clear admiration Coulson felt for him, which Steve didn't feel he deserved. When he'd exited the plane, he looked for an escape and instead saw off in the distance a tall, slim man dressed in dark colored clothing. Steve had surprised himself because his first coherent thought upon disembarking the plane was, "Wow, he's pretty."

His next realization (after he'd thought, "Did I just think that?") was that pretty didn't do the guy justice. The closer he and his new guide got to the man, Steve realized he was utterly breathtaking and had gorgeous green pools for eyes. He wore his clothes with an ease that Steve had only witnessed in pictures.

Then Natasha had said, "This is Loki."

Loki was the name of the blurry figure that had stolen the Tesseract and proclaimed he was going to rule the world.

Steve hadn't been made aware there were two Lokies at the time, so he'd completely internally freaked out. (Then freaked out further when he realized he was being weird and still thinking the guy was pretty.)

"What was your first impression of Reindeer Games?" Loki asked without waiting for Steve to give a verbal answer to his first question.

Steve snapped his head up and said, "He was a little deranged."

Loki quirked an eyebrow.

"He wasn't like you."

Loki laughed darkly. "That, Steven, is a problem. They are both me. I am Reindeer Games, as well as the man you met on the Hellicarrier."

"What does this have to do with your fingers?"

Loki looked away and braced himself on the kitchen island (Loki's kitchen was large enough there was room to move as well as an island).

(Steve was a little jealous. If only he could move the apartment to Brooklyn.)

"Steven, while I know you and the others seem to think the Loki that fought along side you is who I really am, that is not true. I am both good and evil, a bag of angry cats as well as collected, precise and sane."

Steve frowned.

"I cannot be one with the other," Loki quietly said. "No matter how many punching bags I kick down and destroy, no matter how much I suppress the mad side, he is always there. I know what he lived through, I know his thought process as I am him. He is stronger than the man you first met."

Steve felt mildly alarmed.

"I have to…reconcile the two halves and it's harder than I originally believed."

"I don't understand."

Loki looked up, giving Steve a sad smile. "No. I do not believe you could. Oh, do not look at me that way, Steven. It was not a slight against you."

Steve wasn't sure how he was looking at Loki, but he felt helpless. He wanted to fix everything, yet had no clue what was broken. Other than Loki. He thought he'd been helping Loki fix himself. Clearly, Steve was wrong.

"I spoke to Bruce," Loki said, pushing himself away from the island and moving around the kitchen again. "I wished to know how he dealt with being two separate people."

"But…but…"

"It's similar, not the same," Loki said, taking a saucepan out and setting it on the stove.

"Did, uh, did he help?"

"Not as I originally was hoping," Loki admitted. "But, he did suggest something that allowed me to become physically tired for the first time in a long while instead of emotionally wrought."

"What?" Steve gasped.

"Do not blame yourself for not realizing," Loki went on, doing his hardest not to look at Steve's face. "I hide quite well in plain sight. My therapist…well, she's been trying since I began seeing her for me to…well, let go."

"Oh."

Steve was out of his depth.

Loki was suddenly right in front of Steve, hand on his face. It felt different and weird, mostly because of the fact the fingers were incased in splints and bandages.

"You will never know how much you've have helped," Loki said quietly. "I still have a long way to go before I am…I am well."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"I only know as much as you let me in."

Loki stared at Steve before dropping his hand and moving away.

"You are more in than most," Loki said.

"I…I…I…"

Loki chuckled. "Steven."

He was once again standing in front of Steve. How he managed to move so quickly and quietly without the aid of magic was a mystery to Steve.

"You are home."

Steve was about to say, no, he wasn't home. He was in Manhattan on the Upper East Side where he felt like an impostor, but then Steve thought about what Loki said with that soft, shining look in those beach glass eyes.

"I am home," Steve whispered, bringing his own hand up to Loki's face and gently tracing one of his cheekbones. His feelings these passed two weeks (and during the months Loki was in Asgard) suddenly made a lot more sense. "You are home."

Loki looked downright shocked.

"I don't…I…well…I don't like the apartment now that you've left," Steve blurted out.

And couldn't believe he'd just said that. He knew— he had been told in no uncertain terms the reason Loki was moving into his own apartment was because he needed his own space, his own residence to establish himself, and get to know himself in his current state. Steve understood. (Didn't like it, but understood.)

"Steven," Loki said quietly, letting his head drop to Steve's shoulder.

Steve put his arms around the Trickster and pulled the slender man closer.

"I know you need this, you have to do this, but…you are home," Steve said.

Home was where the heart was.

Home was where you put your hat.

Home was wherever the heck Loki was.

Loki let out a shuddering breath. It danced across Steve's neck, wet and warm. Steve began to rub slow circles on the demigod's back, wondering what he'd said wrong.

* * *

_The sun goes down / The stars come out / And all that counts is here and now / My universe will never be the same _

_-The Wanted, "Glad You Came"_

* * *

Loki cried.

Right on Steve's shoulder.

The last time Loki had shed tears was during his battle with Thor. A lone tear had escaped his eye as he had had a moment of clarity before he'd plunged a knife into Thor's gut and threw him out of Stark's window (the first time, he didn't clearly remember the second). The last time he'd shed tears as a whole being was when he'd let go of Gungnir.

Till now.

Loki was lost, confused and adrift in a sea of misery. He battled on a daily basis with the side of him that wished to subjugate, rage, and destroy. Even after Bruce's help at getting some aggression out that afternoon, it lurked under the surface. The dark voices whispered in the back of his mind he did not deserve this life he was leading, he did not deserve love as he was a monster. It whispered for him to make those who'd made him feel like this pay for their slights.

He knew he must accept this aspect of him would always be there. He'd never be able to carry on as he had before the madness overtook. Loki knew he'd have to remain as he was now: magic-less and weak. The All-Father would never return him to his former self as he was always going to be a danger.

Loki was okay with this. As long as the All-Father let him remain on Midgard with Steve, Loki did not care.

And that scared him a little.

It was his therapist suggestion Loki get his own apartment, a space to call his own, worried he was becoming too dependent on Steve too quickly. She suggested he needed somewhere to "hang his hat" as he'd never had some place that was his alone. (She knew his true identity, knew he was the man who had tried to conquer the Earth with an alien army, but she did not know he was a prince. Someday he would tell her, when he was ready.)

Loki had thought, at the time, moving was a good idea. He thought that in going forward with his therapist suggestion would lead to the Mad One quieting down and going into hibernation. He would strike out on his own, be independent, and the fears would hush. So, he began to seriously scour for apartments in New York City. He was picky and knew what he wanted. He hadn't realized it didn't exist in Brooklyn and he'd wind up on a different island than Steve. But there were trains, buses, and Stark's chauffeured cars.

Loki had thought it was fine.

Loki was under the delusion it was perfectly normal to feel the ache in his chest when he woke each morning not wrapped around Steve.

While he loved the apartment (so much room, so white and airy), he missed Steve horridly. Loki saw Steve daily, but it was so much different from what they'd had the first few weeks he'd been on Midgard.

He'd been in the apartment a fortnight and he wanted to pack up his meager possessions (mostly clothing) and go back to Brooklyn.

This made him angry, so he continued to act like nothing was bothering him till it got too be too much and he'd gone to speak with Bruce.

Bruce said if home made him less crazy, he ought to spent more time with it.

Steve was home.

Loki was home to Steve.

It made Loki cry, be it from happiness or simply from being miserable, he wasn't sure.

"I could come here," Steve said over Loki's stuttered breaths.

Loki was sure Steve could feel his confusion. Loki refused to let Steve see him cry, so he kept his face plastered in the man's neck. (Yes, he was aware Steve likely knew he was crying, but he couldn't see it.)

"My lease is almost up," Steve said after clearing his throat. "I know your therapist suggested you strike out on your own…but if we're both…well…uh…"

Loki pulled back and stared at the very red Steve Rogers, who cleared his throat and made a cloth handkerchief appear out of nowhere. He extended to Loki, who quickly dried his face with it before folding it into fourths.

"You wish to move here? A place you're uncomfortable?"

Steve rubbed the back of his neck before lowering his hand and giving Loki a hard look. "You are home."

"You hate it here."

"You love it here."

"No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. You are okay in Brooklyn, but you like it here better."

"You hate it here."

"I don't hate it. I feel uncomfortable in this kind of neighborhood just like I feel uncomfortable on Asgard. And for pretty much the same reason: I don't fit in."

Loki scoffed.

"I am a kid from Brooklyn who didn't have a lot, Loki. I didn't grow up like you in a palace or in luxury like most of the people who reside on this side of town. But, I can get used to it."

"You're not a hipster."

"Huh?"

Loki let out a laugh.

"Hipster?" Steve asked, looking adorably confused.

"Those are the people who reside in your neighborhood," Loki explained. "Or did. The neighborhood you chose is an up and coming area, per the real estate agent I hired. He told me several times it was filled with hipsters, which the man detested for some reason. He was a lot happier when I wished to look in this area."

"You didn't rent this apartment, did you?"

"No. Thor set me up with enough money I'm sure no one explained the concept of currency to the dolt."

"Where— gold. Asgard is swimming in gold."

Steve shook his head, eyes rolling towards the ceiling.

Loki looked at his nails. "You'd be amazed what you can get for a few worthless hunks of ruined statue here."

"Hunks of ruined statue?"

"Ah, yes, you were likely never shown the sculpting areas," Loki said, flapping his hands. "Where do you think we make all that glitters on Asgard? Did you believe it just appeared?"

"Well, no…"

"Anyways, a few scraps and it seems I'm a millionaire. Not anything on parr with Stark, but I can afford an apartment in Manhattan. So, if you wish to keep your abode in Brooklyn, I will simply rent this place out."

Loki gazed around the kitchen and tried not to show how he'd miss all the space, before looking back at Steve.

"No."

"Steven."

"Hey, you moved to Midgard from your own home. You came to get better and you like the Upper East Side. You are comfortable _here_. Yeah, you can get by in Brooklyn, but you like it better up here. I know why you do," Steve admitted, running a hand through his hair. "So, uh…are we going to move in together?"

Steve looked as if he had just suggested the pair get married— or something else Earth shattering.

"If you wish and believe it is the right choice."

Loki wasn't going to argue if Steve wanted to move in. Loki was surprised he'd suggested it. It was so forward.

"I…"

Steve trailed off, leaving the kitchen. He was wearing a wistful, yet contemplative expression on his face, so Loki let him leave without demanding he finish his thought. After a moment, Loki followed, finding Steve staring into the empty second bedroom. Secretly, (meaning Loki hadn't even admitted it to himself) he had set the room aside for Steve as a studio. The light was wonderful no matter the weather and the tile floor would be easy to clean if Steve ever got paint all over the place. The last resident had used it as a child's bedroom (hence the tile maybe) and it was painted a horrid shade of pink, but Loki figured they could remedy that.

"I…"

"Studio."

"Really?"

"What else would we use this for? Unless you require your own sleeping quarters."

"No. Why— oh. Uh…"

Loki shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You will have to get rid of the ugly paint. This shade of pink makes me slightly ill."

"Yeah, kind of looks like that stomach medicine Tony gulps after he eats Indian food," Steve absently commented.

"Thank you. I needed that visual."

* * *

_And you will catch me if I fall / And I will get lost into your eyes / I know everything will be alright_

_-Lifehouse, "Storm" _


End file.
